The War Outside Our Door Keeps Ragin' On
by theoriginalbookthief07
Summary: It's been a long ride on the crazy train for the gang in Avenger's Tower, and things only get crazier as they deal with new allies, new enemies and previously unknown secrets. But somehow, together, they'll make it all work. Covers events pre, during, and post AoU; fifth in the ChristyVerse. Chapter Twenty-One: "Because I Knew You," Chapter Twenty-Two: "Fun With Languages."
1. Night Terror

**Hello everyone! Welcome to the ChristyVerse!  
**

 **If you're asking, "What the heck is the ChristyVerse?" then I would direct you to my profile, to the story entitled "We Can Be Found." After that, I would direct you toward either "I Dream Things that Never Were (And Ask Why Not)" or "Never Meant For You to Fix Yourself," depending on where your interests lie.**

 **The basic summary of my 'Verse is this: about 5 months after the Battle of Manhattan, all the Avengers are living in the Tower. Steve Rogers adopts a seven-year-old girl named Christy. Life ensues. But to actually understand a lot of these one-shots, you need to go back and read my other stories. Otherwise you'll probably be very confused.**

 **To everyone who _has_ been following my work thus far, welcome to my second one-shot collection!**

 **The title comes from "Safe and Sound," by Taylor Swift. Every time I hear that song, I picture Steve singing it to Christy.**

 **I used my hiatus from posting to actually work on my schoolwork (fun, fun...) but I am currently on Fall Break, which lends me down time to write and post. Thus, this chapter was born.  
**

 **Basically, this chapter gives me the excuse to write Bucky angst/hurt-comfort. My poor baby... :( It came about based on a throw-away line in "Never Meant..." about Bucky trying to hide his nightmares, but Steve and Sam always finding out. Chronologically, it takes place somewhere between chapters 7 and 8 of that story.  
**

 **NOTE: (I'm putting this warning at the beginning so I don't have to put it before every chapter) Some of these one-shot's will contain mild profanity. It will always fit a) the character, and b) the situation. I don't swear (as a habit) in real life, so the only reason I include profanity is for the sake of realism. But I will never use s*** or f***, mostly because of personal standards. I hope you understand.**

 **As always, reviews, favorites and follows are much appreciated! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **The War Outside Our Door Keeps Ragin' On**

Chapter One: Night Terror

 _They said this would happen…_

That was the only coherent thought that could surface in Bucky's brain, as he sat in the corner of his room, biting a pillow to hold back screams.

Since he'd been with Steve, nightmares hadn't really occurred, at least not with any strength. But Bruce had warned him that the more time passed, the more his memories started to break through; the more nightmares he would have.

Tonight had been bad. But Bucky refused to scream, or yell, or cry out.

 _If I scream, I'll wake up Steve and Sam and they need sleep and the kid'll be scared and then…_

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the images that flashed like taunting ghosts in his mind's eye.

 _Hands roughly pulling him down a hall, screaming in…Russian? German? He didn't know. The scene shifted to a room, where a man in a suit sat calmly while his brain scrabbled to understand what was going on…and then the scene morphed to another cell, where he sat still in a corner while blood dripped down his body…_

 _There was pain. Always pain._

 _"_ _Your work has been a gift to mankind…"_

 _"_ _Fist of HYDRA…"_

 _"_ _Assassin. Killer. Gun."_

 _"_ _Slave…" True, nobody had ever called him this, but he wasn't stupid. That was essentially what he had been._

 _"_ _You will never escape us…"_

And suddenly, Bucky couldn't hold back anymore.

* * *

Sam sat bolt upright in bed, completely confused as to what had woken him up.

And then he heard the screaming.

"Ah, no…"

In less than half a second, he had scrambled out of bed and stumbled out into Steve's room.

Steve was out like a light. Feeling both thankful and guilty, Sam leaned over and shook his shoulder.

"Steve, wake up. Wake up, it's Bucky. He's having a nightmare."

At the word 'Bucky,' Steve's eyes shot open in a way that would have been almost comical, if it wasn't for the situation.

"No…" he mumbled, rolling out of bed. He dashed over to the door of his friend's room.

Somehow, Steve managed not to charge in like the world was ending. But the sight that greeted his eyes was like his worst nightmare.

Bucky sat in the corner, hunched into an upright fetal position, his eyes shut and his face split in a look of terrified anguish. He was no longer screaming, but that didn't give Steve any comfort.

He would rather hear a scream from Bucky, as opposed to dead silence.

Sam hung back by the door, ready to provide any back up as necessary.

Almost crashing to his knees, Steve pulled himself slightly closer.

"Bucky?" he tried, pitching his voice loud enough to carry, but not to startle. "Bucky, come back. Where are you? It's Steve, we're in Avenger's Tower, you're safe, and I need you to come back to me."

Still breathing heavily, Bucky's eyes slowly slid open and took in Steve's scrunched-down form.

"No…" he moaned.

"It's alright, pal, nobody's gonna hurt ya…" Steve whispered soothingly.

 _They'd have to get through_ _ **me**_ _first!_

Bucky still looked troubled. "I-I…I w-woke y-you u-up. W-wasn't t-tryin' to…p-please…I didn't mean to, please…"

Steve frowned. "It's alright, I don't mind. I knew you were gonna have nightmares, anyway…"

Bucky shook his head, kept up the litany of begging. "Please, I didn't mean it, I tried to be quiet, please, don't hurt me…"

Like a sudden cold front, Steve could feel all the blood in his veins turn to ice.

 _Don't hurt me…_

He wanted to scream, cry, kick, punch— _anything_.

But that would solve nothing.

So instead, he shook his head and tapped Bucky's arm. "Look at me, pal. Look at me."

Slowly, Bucky lifted his head. He couldn't quite manage eye contact, but it was close enough.

"I will never hurt you. And I would _kill_ anyone who tried to hurt you again. On the…" Steve felt his throat choke up. "On the Hellicarier…pal, when I had to fight you…I thought I'd die. That fight was the worst thing I've ever done. I would never let it happen again."

Steve's calm, anguished words slowly worked through Bucky like medicine.

Of _course_ Steve wouldn't hurt him. Of _course…_

The blind panic that had been pounding his heart was replaced by something like shame.

 _How could I ever think…!_

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "Sorry…you're nothing like them. Sorry…"

And suddenly, he was surrounded by arms that were strong and warm and safe, and it was so _good…_

"It's alright…" Steve whispered. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm not offended. You had a bad dream, and woke up scared; of course you were still thinking about _them_. But you're _safe_ , understand?"

"They said I'd never escape them…" Bucky mumbled. "Maybe they're right…"

Steve gave a gentle snort. "Maybe they're _right_? Buck, you _already_ escaped. You already got away. You're only gonna get better."

"But they're still in my dreams…they're still there. And I can't get away…"

"Yeah you can." Steve said firmly. "You can wake up. And when you wake up, come and find me. Or I'll already be there. Either way…you won't be alone."

"B-but what if I wake you…?"

"I _do_ _not_ care." Steve said, enunciating every word with careful precision. "I don't care if this happens every night for the rest of my life, I will get up and stay with you."

Bucky raised his head up and managed, trembling, to look into Steve's face.

"Why?" he whispered.

 _I'm not worth it…_

Steve sighed. "'Cause I promised. 'Cause you're my brother, and I love you. And because you're worth it."

Bucky frowned at Steve's apparent mind-reading. "I'm not. I'm…I'm just a gun. A _broken_ gun."

 _No you are_ _ **not**_ _!_ Steve wanted to scream, but instead, he just brushed a strand of unruly hair out of Bucky's face.

"You're my friend." he corrected gently. "Every night you weren't here, I felt like I was missing something. Some _one_. Now, you're back, and I'll be damned if I let anyone take you away from me again."

A small, almost feral smile crept across Steve's face. "If anyone wants you back…they're gonna have to fight me."

The sound of the microwave running drifted into the room.

Steve looked over. "What the…"

Gently lifting Bucky up and moving him over to the bed, Steve looked out the door of the room, to see Sam doing something in the kitchen.

Frowning, he stepped out into the living area. "Sam, what are you doing?"

Sam shrugged. "Takin' a page out of the kid's book. This is for him." he held out a steaming mug that smelled like….

"Hot chocolate?"

"He's had it, he likes it, and he has a good, recent memory associated with it." Sam replied. "'Sides, if I know anything about nightmares, he's not gonna get back to sleep any time soon, and neither will we, so I figured we should just embrace the whole 'awake at two in the morning' deal."

Despite the situation, Steve managed a smile. "Thanks, Sam…" he said, raw gratefulness slipping into his tone. "I dunno what…"

Sam shook his head. "Don't mention it. We've all got scars. Some scars just run a little deeper." He jerked his head at the mug. "Go give that to him."

"Steve?"

Steve and Sam both whipped their heads over to see Bucky standing in the living room, blinking unsteadily into the dimmed lights.

"C'mon and sit down, pal." Steve said. "And try to drink this."

Bucky frowned as he did so. "M-medicine?"

"Chocolate." Sam replied, grinning.

Bucky's eyes brightened immediately and his hands instinctively reached up. He quickly moved them down again. "Sorry…"

 _Assets don't get things…except guns._

Steve sighed. "No 'sorrys,' Buck. This is for you." He reached over and set the mug into Bucky's hands. Bucky stared at it…and then took a sip. His eyes shot wide, like he'd just tasted the elixir of life.

Sam moved over to the couch with two more mugs and handed one to Steve. For a moment, all three men sat in silence, sipping the drinks.

"Who needs alcohol, anyway?" Sam muttered. "I forgot how fantastic this stuff was."

Steve gave a wan smile. "Don't tell Tony, or else he'll buy up all the cocoa powder in New York."

"Nah, Tony'll import fancy chocolate powder from France or something." Sam joked, glad his attempt to lighten the mood seemed to be working.

Bucky looked over. "Th-the kid'll be mad we drank this without her."

Steve looked worried…until he realized that this was Bucky's attempt at a joke. He'd been getting better at making them recently.

He snorted. "What Christy doesn't know won't hurt her."

"I-is this gonna go on forever?" Bucky whispered.

Sam sighed. "What? The you having nightmares part or the us drinking hot chocolate at two in the morning part?"

"The me having n-nightmares part…"

"Not forever. Not this bad forever." Steve said firmly. "It'll get better, I swear." He glanced at Sam, with a 'please back me up on this' look.

Sam nodded. "He's right. They'll be slowly less horrible. But right now, they're bad because they're all coming to the surface for the first time." He reached across Steve and touched Bucky's shoulder.

"You come get one of us, next time, understand? I don't care what time it is, you come wake us up, either of us. I had all kinds of weird hours in the military, and I've had calls from patients at crazy hours, so nothing surprises me. You hear me?"

Bucky nodded. "Just…didn't wanna wake you guys up. I didn't know how…" He looked down into the mug, shame clouding his face.

Steve frowned. "Didn't know how to do what, Bucky?"

Something in Sam's eyes suddenly cleared. "Ah. You didn't know how to ask for help. Is that it?"

Bucky nodded again. "I couldn't… _before_. And… _before_ before, in Brooklyn…I don't think I liked it."

Steve snorted. "No, you never did, jerk. You couldn't ask for help if your life depended on it."

"I had to be…strong. For you. For…others."

Steve sighed. "You don't have to be strong now, pal. Look…just think of this as me paying you back all the times you took care of me. We're gonna be even for once!" He smiled softly. "Let me have this, please. I never got to be the strong one."

Bucky looked a tiny bit disgruntled, but managed a nod. "Okay." Pain slipped back onto his face. "I couldn't ask, with… _them_. Wasn't allowed to make noise, except on missions. Wasn't allowed to…" he sighed. "Guns don't talk."

"But people _do_." Sam said. "So talk all you want. Cry, scream…whatever."

"And if you want something, for God's sake, _tell me_!" Steve cried. "I don't care how silly or small you think it is, I wanna know!"

Steve's face was so earnestly serious, that Bucky knew he couldn't possibly be lying.

 _And he wouldn't lie to me…_

He had learned a lot of things since D.C. But the most important thing he'd learned was that at all costs, he could trust Steve Rogers.

Bucky bit his lip. It was time for a test. He held out his mug.

Bracing himself, he asked, "More?"

Steve's face went from shock to a smile that could outshine the sun. "Sure, pal. Whatever you want."

Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief as Steve went into the kitchen.

The voices of his nightmares were loud. But now, he had a voice to throw back at them.

 _If anybody wants you…they're gonna have to fight me…_

For a brief moment, he allowed the images of earlier to come back to his head. But the scenes were different now.

This time, Steve was there, in full Captain America regalia. This time, Steve burst down the door of whatever cell he was in, pulled him to his feet, handed him a weapon to fight back with.

This time, he wasn't alone.

And their battle cry was the same.

 _Fight me…_

* * *

 **Ah, Bucky...and Steve, and Sam. I love writing those three interacting.  
**

 **This chapter was also inspired by a song called "Night Terror," by Laura Marling, especially by the line, "I'll run back and shake him tightly...and scream, if they want him, oh, _they're gonna have to fight me_..." which, to me, just _screams_ Steve and Bucky. Look it up, it's a really good song.**

 **Next post should be sometime this weekend. I wanted to get at least two one-shots written before my break is over.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...  
**


	2. Adventures in Christy-sitting

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thanks for all the feedback on last chapter; special thanks to Qweb, Britt30, and HumanitiesBest for their reviews.**

 **So, to counteract the angst of last chapter, this one is pretty much all pure fluff and cuteness. One of the guest reviewers on "Never Meant..." said that they wanted a chapter where Bucky watched Christy while everyone else was on a mission. So, whoever you are: this is your chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Chronologically, this takes place after "Never Meant For You To Fix Yourself" but before AoU, when the Avengers are all looking for Loki's staff/the mind stone.**

 **As always, REVIEWS, FAVORITES, and FOLLOWS are extremely appreciated. Thanks!**

* * *

Chapter Two: Adventures in Christy-sitting

James Buchanan Barnes had experienced a lot of terrifying things over the course of his life…but this took the cake.

Yes, he supposed that watching a kid for a few days didn't _exactly_ qualify as terrifying, especially when compared to fighting Nazis, or being mind-wiped and frozen for seventy years.

But this wasn't just any kid. It was _Steve's kid_ , and frankly, he wasn't sure which part of that phrase petrified him more.

 _"_ _It's only until Friday, at the most."_ Steve had said. _"You'll be fine! She loves you."_

Since he and Sam had more-or-less "officially" become part of the Avengers (with Nick Fury's blessing and all), the two of them (and occasionally Clint or Natasha) had been trading off on missions and 'Christy-sitting'.

But this was his first time watching her alone.

 _"_ _But what if I have a nightmare and flip out? What if I hurt her?"_

 _"_ _Bucky, you haven't had a really bad nightmare for at least two months! And she knows what to do."_

 _"_ _What, call the police?"_

 _"_ _No, stay in her room until you calm yourself down!"_

In contrast to her stressed-out uncle, Christy was ecstatic at spending half a week with 'Uncle Bucky'—someone she hero-worshipped almost as much as Steve.

As Steve and the rest of the Avengers took off to continue the search for the lost mind stone, he gave Bucky one last reassuring look.

"You'll be fine…"

Bucky sighed. _Here goes nothing…_

As the Quinjet took off, Bucky felt a small hand slip into his.

" _So_ …" Christy said, stretching out the word. "Whaddaya wanna do?"

* * *

As it turned out, Steve seemed to be right, for once. Christy was perfectly capable of keeping herself entertained and doing her homework. (Although she did ask a few questions about said homework, leading Bucky to discover that he wasn't half bad at math).

There was a ton of leftover food in the fridge and freezer, which was a good thing, because although Bucky figured he might have known how to cook at one point, it was not a skill he had retained. (Although he had mastered the microwave.) Fortunately, Christy knew her way around the kitchen.

"I had to make a lot of my own food when Mom was sick." She said matter-of-factly, when he asked how she learned how to cook. "She would read off the recipe and tell me what to do. Sometimes it was really hard for her to stay standing for long. And then, Dad showed me how to cook some stuff."

Bucky's chest clenched up and he fought the urge to grab the girl and never let go.

That night, they both lay sprawled out on the couch, with Christy draped over him like a blanket.

"It's quiet without Dad and Sam." Christy said. "I guess it was pretty quiet when it was just Dad and me. And before that…" she shuddered. " _Way_ too quiet. Poor Dad."

Bucky sighed. "You miss him yet?"

"I always miss him when he's gone. But I'm okay; I'm with you. So I'm safe."

The way she said it so simply, so confident…Bucky had to clench his teeth and blink very hard several times.

"I'm kinda a mess, kid…"

Christy nodded. "I know. But everybody's a little bit of a mess. Even me. But if you're _somebody's_ mess, then…well, it's okay. Because it means somebody likes you, no matter what."

Bucky let out another shaky sigh.

Sam had once claimed that Christy posed a bigger threat to the ideals of HYDRA than any of the Avengers. Bucky had laughed. They all had.

Now, though…he wasn't so sure they should have.

* * *

"No! No…no…"

At the loud cry that came from Christy's room, Bucky shot up off the sofa and went running in.

"What happened?" he asked, taking in the scene. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Christy was sitting on her bed with a very upset expression on her face. The moment she saw him, however, she looked horribly embarrassed.

"It's nothin', Uncle Bucky; I'm okay. I didn't hurt myself. I…" she held up a rumpled piece of cloth. "My favorite shirt ripped."

"Oh…" Bucky grabbed the garment and looked it over. Sure enough, a long tear ran across the back of the shirt, effectively splitting the rather thin material in two. "Jeez, kid, how'd ya manage that one?"

"It got caught on my desk…" Christy frowned, glancing at the sturdy wooden structure which contained some sharp corners. "It was kinda old anyway, but it's my favorite. And it's the only good shirt I have."

Bucky looked puzzled. "Whaddaya mean? You've got enough shirts."

"T-shirts…" Christy mumbled. "Not…nice shirts. Pretty shirts. Shirts that make me look…I dunno…" She looked down. "I wish Aunt Tasha was here."

 _Join the club, kid…_ Bucky thought, trying to figure out just what the heck was going on.

"It's just…" Christy trailed off. "Some of the other girls come to school with make-up and really girly clothes…"

"Make-up?" Bucky shook his head, wishing fervently that Steve was here to deal with this. "Whaddaya wanna wear make-up for? You're nine years old! What, ya wanna look like a chorus girl?"

"No! I just don't wanna stick out!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" Christy looked trapped. "Because I already know too much, but I can't tell anyone. I have to make up stuff all the time; 'cause nobody can know I'm Captain America's kid. And everybody has their little groups and I'm the crazy girl that reads a lot and knows all the answers in class. And Sienna and Tally are in a different class, so I only see them at lunch and recess and I'm _different_ …" She sniffed. "Sorry…"

Bucky grabbed her up under his arm. "Shh…s'alright." He sighed, rocking her back and forth a little. "It's no fun stickin' out, huh? Being alone?"

Christy shook her head. "It's annoying."

"Isn't there _anyone_ you can talk to?"

"Some of the boys are nice. I play basketball with them at recess sometimes. But the girls are weird. They talk about boy bands and crushes—yuck!"

Bucky grinned. "Then take my advice, doll—you're too good for them! Be nice to 'em and all, but don't care what they think. What'a they know about you, anyway?"

"Not too much…"

"Exactly! You're…" he shook his head. "You're gorgeous, kid. Good heart, good head; just like your dad. Don't let anyone tell you different. Or, if they do tell ya—laugh in their faces!"

Christy gave a tiny smile. "Thanks…" she whispered. She frowned down at the ruined shirt. "But I wouldn't mind another shirt, either. It might help to look nice, when I laugh in people's faces."

Bucky looked thoughtful. "Well…I apparently have seventy-something years of back pay sitting in a bank account…"

Christy frowned again. "Could you _handle_ a store? I don't want you to get freaked out."

"For you, kid…I'd handle anything. Lemme go put my arm-cover on, and we can go right now."

The giant smile that ballooned across Christy's face told him that he'd done right.

* * *

Bucky actually had a driver's license now, thanks to his retained driving abilities and the fact that Tony knew a guy (who knew a guy)…

Suffice to say that he now had legal permission to drive on the streets of New York.

( _"And may heaven help us all…"_ Steve had muttered).

They ended up in a Macy's. As they entered the store, Bucky could feel his eyes growing wide at the sheer volume of _stuff_ …

He had been out of the Tower and into stores before, but 21st century excess still gave him a large amount of pause.

 _This is the kind of place I woulda been kicked out of as a kid…scruffy hair and patched up clothes…we had more money when I was older, but not enough for stuff like_ _ **this**_ _…_

Christy looked up at him and her face got instantly worried. "Are you okay? We don't have to do this…"

"I'm _fine_ , kid. Just…a lot."

Christy looked less nervous. "Oh. Like Dad. Okay." She grabbed his hand. "I think kid's stuff is over here."

The two of them walked over to an area that seemed to be saturated with bright colors and _Frozen_ merchandise.

"Very… _pink_." Bucky muttered.

Christy pretended to gag. "I don't like pink so much. But I like blue and gold…" She held up a soft sky-blue blouse with gold and silver detailing. "This is pretty."

Bucky looked the garment over. Something clicked inside him.

Steve had mentioned once that Bucky had dressed pretty sharp, back in the day.

 _"_ _You were always tellin' me what clothes to buy…said if I dressed good, it would give a good impression, even if I was scrawny!"_

"Let me see it on you." he said quietly.

Christy looked up from the shirt. "Dad usually just says okay."

"But how do you know if it's gonna fit you unless you put it on?"

"Oh…yeah." she smiled. "Dad doesn't really like shopping. He just buys me whatever."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'll bet. He never cared about that stuff. Does Natasha ever take you to get clothes?"

Christy nodded. "Yeah, sometimes. She's better about it."

Bucky smirked, making a mental note to tell Natasha to give Steve some tips (or just never let him take Christy clothes shopping alone). "Go try the shirt on, and then show me."

They found a dressing room. Christy went in and came back out in less than five minutes, her face split in a grin.

"I love it! Does…does it look good?"

Her grin faltered a bit as she gazed up expectantly. Bucky smiled and bent down.

"Ya look fine, doll. Gorgeous."

Christy twirled around, her smile back. "Thank you! We can check out now, I'm good!"

Bucky just shook his head. "Oh, no. I've got more'n enough cash for the first time in my life…I ain't lettin' you leave with one lousy shirt! C'mon."

Christy grabbed his hand, her eyes wide with excitement. "Okay!"

* * *

Two dresses, four blouses and a pair of jeans later, Christy was looking like someone had handed her the world.

Bucky felt like _king_ of the world.

He could faintly remember the feeling of straining for enough cash just to buy necessities. Now, with the ability to say "pick whatever you want"…

It made him feel _good_. Proud. Happy.

"Now, _you_ need some stuff." Christy said firmly.

Bucky looked over, shock and mirth sweeping across his face. "What? I got clothes."

"Yeah, clothes you got from… _somewhere_ , or borrowed from _Dad_." Christy muttered. "Or that Dad got you. You don't look good in khaki, by the way."

Bucky crossed his arms. "Okay, hotshot. What should I get?"

Christy smirked. "So glad you asked. C'mon!"

* * *

"Daddy!"

Steve smiled as he and Sam tumbled out of the Quinjet and onto the landing pad connected to Avengers Tower.

"Is that a new shirt she's got on?" Natasha muttered.

Sam frowned. "We're jet-lagged and tired and you _still_ notice that kind of thing?"

" _Spy_ , Wilson. _Spy._ " Natasha replied firmly.

Sure enough, after hugging Steve to bits, Christy twirled around. "Look at my new shirt, Dad! Uncle Bucky got it for me!"

Steve looked his daughter over. "It's great, baby! Really great…did you guys go to a store?"

Bucky snorted. "Have some faith in me, Rogers. The store's still intact. Mostly."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Uncle Bucky got some clothes too…"

"Really?" Steve glanced at Bucky. "This I wanna see."

"Apparently I don't look good in khaki…" Bucky muttered. "So she made me get jeans."

Steve glanced down. "The ones you're wearing now?"

"Yeah…and the shirt…" Bucky smoothed down the fabric self-consciously. It was a dark gray knit shirt—warm and practical (and made him look good…according to the nine-year-old, anyway).

"Nice outfit, Barnes." Natasha said, walking into the Tower.

Sam looked disgruntled. " _Seriously_ , how does she notice that kinda stuff?!"

" _Spy…_ " Steve said, shaking his head.

"And a girl." Christy added. "Girls notice stuff like that. Well…sometimes boys do too."

Steve laughed and the group started into the Tower.

"So…" he muttered to Bucky. "What inspired a shopping trip?"

Bucky snorted. "Her shirt ripped, she said something about already feeling different at school…"

Steve sighed. "She and her friends are in different classes this year. I know it's been rough for her. She's friendly to everyone, but…"

"Some people don't deserve her." Bucky said firmly. "I just told her she's great and to laugh at anyone who says different. And bought her some clothes so she could feel like she can do that."

"Thanks, pal…" Steve shook his head. "I'm glad you were here. Was everything fine otherwise?"

Bucky nodded, watching Christy twirl around the Common Room, welcoming back all the Avengers one at a time.

"Oh, yeah…you were right." He smiled. "It was all fine."

* * *

 **And...cue a chorus of "awwws!"  
**

 **The whole 'shopping' subplot was mostly inspired by the many successful shopping trips I've had with my Dad. Contrary to the whole 'men hate shopping' stereotype, he's actually really good at helping me pick out clothes...**

 **Next update should be this coming week.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	3. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed after last chapter.**

 **I've had the idea for this one-shot for awhile...I didn't mind AoU putting Bruce and Natasha in a relationship, but I did mind that there was no set up. A romance doesn't just come out of nowhere, so I've done my best over the course of the ChristyVerse to drop little hints as to their growing friendship and eventual romantic feelings. But this is my unabashed contribution to the Bruce/Tasha ship. I tried my hardest to do justice to both their characters and show real reasons why Bruce in particular has feelings for Natasha. Because they delve into her side a bit in the movie, but not Bruce's. And that's sad, because Bruce is a pretty complex character too. But I guess that's the joy of fanfiction!**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Feedback is rapidly devoured by the starving writer (aka, I like reviews. They taste good... ;))**

* * *

Chapter Three: Matchmaker, Matchmaker…

"They're being _idiots_!" Christy exclaimed, kicking her legs out and pushing herself up on the swing, as though to emphasize her point.

Beside her, leaning against the metal bar of the swing set, Tally frowned. "I wouldn't call Hulk and the Black Widow idiots…" she lowered her voice, "Even if they _are_ your aunt and uncle."

"But they are! They _like_ each other! But they won't say anything! They just stare at each other awkwardly if they're close together and yeah, they _talk_ …but not about important things."

Tally shrugged. "Maybe they're scared."

Sienna, who was swinging next to Christy, looked over. "Scared? Of love?"

"Love can be pretty scary." Tally said quietly. "Especially if you don't know that the people you love will always be there. Then, you're scared to care about people, 'cause what if they have to go away?"

Sienna winced. It was true, her family wasn't exactly rich, but they had always been there, together. Sometimes she forgot that her friends had had pretty hard lives before both being adopted.

Christy pumped her legs out again. "Okay, maybe you're right. But I still say they gotta get together. They'd be good for each other! So, let's play matchmaker!"

"Matchmaker?!" Tally groaned. "Christy, what do any of us know about romantic stuff?"

Sienna looked thoughtful. "When my brother Angelo wanted to ask out his girlfriend, he invited her over and made her a surprise dinner."

Christy frowned. "He cooked it?"

"Well…he kinda ordered takeout from the Chinese place up the street."

"Is he still dating that girl?"

Sienna ducked her head down. "No…"

Tally snorted. "Well, that's a no for Chinese takeout, then. But a special dinner isn't a bad idea. My parents go out to eat by themselves sometimes."

"But we have to make sure they're _alone_." Christy said firmly.

"You live in a tower the size of the Empire State Building!" Tally cried. "Isn't there some floor nobody uses?"

"Well, yeah, but I can't use just _any_ floor, there are some I'm not allowed on! But maybe if I could get everyone else to stay off the Common Floor and then get them down there…"

"That could work." Sienna said. "But what about food?"

Christy shrugged. "Aunt Tasha eats anything, Uncle Bruce likes Indian food."

"Yeah, she _eats_ anything." Tally stressed. "But what does she _like_?"

"I…I dunno. She just sorta eats whatever's around…probably 'cause of the whole 'raised in the Red Room' thing…"

"What's the Red Room again?" Sienna asked, very quiet.

"It's a bad place. They trained people to become assassins. Kids our age…and younger."

Sienna shuddered. "She deserves a happy romance."

Christy nodded fervently. "Uh-huh. And so does Uncle Bruce. Hey, can you guys come over tomorrow? Cause recess is almost up and we need to plan. And…you guys haven't been over for a while."

Tally shrugged. "Dunno why not." Sienna copied the gesture.

"My parents don't care as long as I'm home before eight."

"Okay, that's fine." Christy grinned as the whistle sounded the end of recess. "Let Operation Lovebirds begin!"

* * *

"Aunt Tasha, what's your favorite food?"

Natasha looked over at Christy. It wasn't an overly suspicious question, but it was a bit out of left field.

"Why are you asking?" she replied.

Christy gave a small shrug. "Just wondering. It came up at recess today."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "It _came up_ at recess, huh?"

"Hey, our conversations can be _really_ random." Christy said, completely honest. "They just keep going and going, and pretty soon, we're like 'how did we get here, again?'."

Natasha laughed. "Alright, alright; fair enough." She looked thoughtful. "Food's food; I never really think about favorites too much. Probably a holdover from…certain places."

 _I told them so_. Christy thought, but remembered Tally's point and pushed a tiny bit harder. "But, like, if you absolutely had to pick. Just something; anything."

Natasha frowned. "I…" Suddenly, her face cleared. "Pasta. _Pirogi_. Anything…noodle related." She smirked. "After I got…recruited, by SHIELD, Coulson said I was way too thin. And Clint agreed. So the two of them were constantly looking for ways to fatten me up like a goose for Christmas! And…pasta was easy enough to find. Plus, I didn't…get it a lot, growing up."

Christy nodded, feeling hope rise up in her. _I can do pasta! All you do is boil water; how can you screw that up? And I know how to make a couple sauces pretty good..._

All she said out loud was. "I like pasta, too. I like Alfredo sauce best, and I can make it all by myself."

"Really?" Natasha said. Christy nodded. "Huh…I didn't know you were that good at cooking."

"I'm nine! I know how to make basic food and not burn down a kitchen. Which is more than Uncle Tony can say."

"Hey, now; be nice…that was only once!"

As they veered off into 'safer' topics, Christy pushed down her raging excitement.

 _Phase one: check._

* * *

As the elevator opened on the Common Floor, Thor was a bit surprised to hear the high, fast chatter of three preteen girls.

He smiled a bit as he caught sight of Christy and two other girls engaged in some passionate conversation at the kitchen table. To be strictly honest, though he knew Christy was well loved and well looked after, he wished that she could be surrounded more often by children her own age. She spent far too much time immersed in the world of adults.

"Christy, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your companions!" he called out, in what he thought was a mild enough tone.

The effect was instantaneous. Christy, being used to his rather booming voice, merely jumped a bit and looked over. The dark-skinned girl let out a gasp and stood up, but schooled her face into calm. The smallest girl, with skin a shade somewhere in between the two others, sat still and gazed at him with scared, yet penetrating eyes.

Christy grinned a bit. "You come to my house, but you freak out when an Avenger walks in the room?" The other two girls mumbled incoherent, vaguely annoyed remarks. Christy sighed. "Guys, this is my Uncle Thor. Uncle Thor, this is Tally and Sienna, my best friends." she said, pointing to each girl in turn.

Thor smiled. "It is a pleasure." he said kindly.

Tally nodded and said "nice to meet you," but Sienna just kept staring. Finally, she stood up.

"Why are you so _tall_?" she whispered. Startled, she clapped her hands over her mouth. "Sorry! That wasn't supposed to come out…!"

Thor chuckled. "It's all right! I…I know not. There are many tall people on Midgard, are there not?"

Sienna nodded. "Midgard is Earth, right? Christy told us you had different names for places."

"Aye, Midgard and Earth both refer to the same place." Thor swept his eyes over the group. "Now, what were you all planning before I so rudely interrupted?"

The three girls looked at each other. "…Matchmaking." Tally said evenly.

"Ah. I see. Might I ask between whom?"

There was another awkward pause. Christy mumbled. "Uncle Bruce and Aunt Tasha…"

Thor's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Contrary to popular belief, he did possess a decent amount of 'situational awareness,' as it were. He was not immune to the looks that had been passed between Banner and Romanoff (or displayed by one, at the other, when the other was not looking). Clearly, some sort of strong bond was forming between the two.

But for even the child to have noticed…

"Haven't you learned that it's unwise to meddle in the affairs of one's elders?" he said lightly.

Tally shrugged. "Maybe…but it's kinda fun." Sienna nodded.

"Besides, I've been meddling in the affairs of my elders for almost three years." Christy added. "Things always…seem to work out."

Mentally conceding to that point, Thor nodded. "I see. Well, I shall leave you all to your plotting and scheming, then. Good luck to you." At that, he disappeared into the back sparring gym.

"He's nice." Sienna said.

Christy nodded. "Yeah. He's a little overwhelming at first. But definitely nice. Where were we, again?"

"You're gonna tell Jarvis to get Ms. Natasha off her floor and Mr. Bruce out of the lab." Tally prompted.

"Oh, yeah. After that…"

* * *

Bruce Banner had a problem. A really big problem.

He was quite possibly (okay, _probably_ , _most_ _likely_ , _for_ _real_ ) falling for Natasha Romanoff.

And that scared him to no end.

He'd tried to push the feeling to the back of his head, tried to speak and act like nothing had changed in their relationship. But between Natasha's good people-reading skills and his terrible acting, he was sure his attempts had failed miserably.

"Uncle Bruce, do you like Aunt Tasha?"

Since her earliest days in the Tower, Christy had taken to doing her homework in the lab, mostly due to the fact that he and Tony were the best at math, and that was generally the homework she needed help with. Three years later, the level of help she needed had decreased, but the habit still remained.

Bruce jumped and looked back, relieved that Tony was out of the lab for a moment.

"Uh…sure I like Natasha, kid. She's my friend."

Christy sighed. "I'm not stupid, Uncle Bruce. I mean, you _like_ her, like her."

"¿Qué? No te entiendo, niña." Bruce tried, in a last-ditch attempt at changing the subject.

Christy just gave him a long, pitying look. "M-mi amigo…amig _a_ mejor es puer-to-rri-queña." she said, pronouncing the words carefully. "Hablo español un poco. Y tú amo…am _as_ tía Natasha."

Bruce groaned. "I supposed I deserved that."

"Sí. Da. Haan. Yes." Christy replied. "And you taught me the third one. But you're ignoring the topic."

"Kid, there is no topic…"

"Yes there is! What are you so afraid of?"

"Really?" Bruce gave Christy a hard stare. "You really need to ask that question? I'm a danger to society, kid. I'd just…bring her down."

"Ah-hah, so you do admit you like her!"

Bruce sighed. "Alright! Yes, I…like her." his voice caught. "A lot."

There was silence for a moment. Then, Christy whispered, "Why?"

"Because…" Bruce sighed again. "Because she gets it. She gets what it's like to run around the world and be looking over your shoulder, to wake up screaming and shuddering about the lives you've destroyed, about how _your life_ has been destroyed…"

Christy grabbed his shoulder. "Stop." she said quietly. "You're a really good person, Uncle Bruce. And you and Aunt Tasha have had kinda sucky lives. You both deserve a chance to be happy."

Bruce smiled. "Better not let your Dad hear you say 'sucky'."

Christy shrugged. "Sometimes it's the only right adjective. But I mean it, if you like her…don't be afraid to say something. Before it's too late."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, kid…"

Christy mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'ya never know'…and he realized whose kid he was talking to.

"Alright, Christy. I'll try."

* * *

"Dr. Banner?"

Bruce stopped working for a moment. "Yeah, Jarvis?"

"Your presence is requested on the Common Floor by Miss Rogers."

Bruce glanced over at Tony, who looked concerned. "Is she alright, J?"

"She is in no danger, she merely requested that Dr. Banner come down."

Tony shrugged. "Okay, then. Guess she wants Uncle Brucie."

Bruce rolled his eyes as he started down the long staircase to the Common Floor.

Immediately, he knew something was up.

First, Christy was nowhere to be seen.

Second, the table was set with plates, silverware, and what looked like…

"Pasta?" Bruce muttered.

Suddenly the elevator door opened. Natasha stepped out, looking worried. "Christy? Is everything…?" she trailed off at the sight of Bruce, the table, and no Christy.

Suddenly, everything became crystal clear to Bruce.

"Lemme guess…" Bruce said. "Jarvis told you that Christy wanted you on the Common Floor."

Natasha nodded. "Yeah…where is she? And what's with the table? It's got candles and…" Her eyes widened and she groaned. "Oh, _Bozhe_ _moy_ , we've been set up by a nine-year-old."

They looked at each other. Silence filled the room for a minute.

And then, they both burst out laughing.

"I should have known something was up." Natasha said. "She asked me about my favorite food earlier this week…"

Bruce nodded. "She was up in the lab grilling me yesterday, the little mastermind!"

"Grilling you? About what?"

Bruce suddenly found the floor very interesting. But Christy's words came back to him.

 _If you like her…don't be afraid to say something…_

"Well…" he said, gesturing at the table. "We probably shouldn't let all this food go to waste…"

"Agreed." Natasha said. They both moved toward the table and sat down. A note rested in the center of the item.

 _Dear Uncle Bruce and Aunt Tasha,_

 _This is for you, both of you. Nobody's watching but everybody knows to stay off the Common Floor until you're done. Have fun, be nice…and be honest. Love you._

 _Christy_

Natasha sighed as she finished reading the note. Honesty wasn't her best skill…

But with some people, it wasn't so hard. Like the man standing opposite her, who looked like he was torn between shouting and crying.

"We…we should probably eat." she said quietly.

They both sat down and served themselves food. Conversation started to flow the minute they both took a bite of pasta and Alfredo sauce.

"This is really good! Did she get this from somewhere?"

"I think she made it herself. She told me she knew how to make it…"

"Not bad for a nine-year-old. Nine…can you believe it's almost been three years?"

Natasha shook her head. "I really can't imagine the Tower without her. It'd be a lot more…I dunno. Empty. Missing something."

Bruce sighed. "Yeah…"

"Hey, remember that one time she held you hostage and made you watch a movie with her and me?" Natasha said.

Bruce looked confused for a moment, and then smiled. "Yeah…and then we talked for two hours after she went to bed. That was…nice. It was…" he swallowed. "The first time I really looked at you."

Natasha grew very still. "And…what did you see?" she said quietly.

Bruce took another steadying breath. "Someone I wanted to see more of. Hear more of. Love…" he shook his head. "It's such a cheap word, in English. We dirty it up on so many lesser things, when we should be saving it for…for the things that really matter. The…people that really matter. Like you."

He took one last deep breath.

"YA…YA tebya lyublyu, Natalia Romanova…sorry, I don't know your patronym…"

"It's Alianovna...but I don't even know if it's real or not..." Natasha murmured faintly. In her heart, a very suppressed, buried feeling was rising to the surface.

Genuine flattery. The kind you feel when you never expected someone to go to so much trouble for you…and they do.

"Since when did you learn Russian?"

Bruce looked sheepish. "I, ah…looked it up. I like languages, thought I'd give Russian a try. Never had a reason to learn it before, but…now I do."

Okay, that did it. Natasha had spent enough time around men to know when they were pulling one over on a woman. Or attempting to.

Bruce Banner couldn't pull one over if he tried a hundred years.

For the first time in…maybe ever, Natasha allowed herself to feel romanced.

"I adore you…" she whispered. And Bruce's face split in such a smile…she'd never seen its equal on his face.

She'd told Loki (admittedly as part of an act) that love was for children. And even as she'd said the words, she'd known they were false. She'd seen Clint's family, seen real love.

But she'd also partially believed her words. In the world of the Red Room, love was a flimsy, pathetic thing. Only the weak loved.

But she thought of Christy, who seemed leave love everywhere she walked. She thought of Clint and Laura, still making it work with all their separation, of Clint's face when he looked at his children. Of…pretty much anyone's face in the Tower, but especially Steve, Bucky, and Sam's when they looked at Christy.

Of Bruce's face now, looking at her…

 _"_ _All it takes is a single candle to hold back darkness…"_ The quote surfaced in her mind and she completed it instinctively.

 _"_ _Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars."_

Tonight…Natasha could believe it was true.

* * *

 **The quote is a half-paraphrase of one from the novelization of _Return of the Sith._**

 **Translations:**

 **"¿Qué? No te entiendo, niña."- "What? I don't understand you, kid _(lit._ girl)."  
**

 **"Mi amiga mejor es puertorriqueña. Hablo español un poco. Y tú amas tía Natasha."- "My best friend is Puerto Rican. I speak Spanish a little bit. And you love Aunt Natasha."  
**

 **"Sí. Da. Haan."- "Yes" in Spanish, Russian and Hindi, respectively.  
**

 **"YA tebya lyublyu"- "I love you."**

 **(Okay, I've taken about six years of Spanish in school, so I'm super pumped that I got to work it into a story somehow!)**

 **"I don't know your patronym..."- Russian full names have 3 parts, a first name, patronym (father's name plus ovna/ovich for a girl/boy), and last name. Considering that Natasha's probably an orphan and doesn't remember her parents, and that the Red Room probably made up a lot of fake details for her background...she's not really too sure on a lot of things. "Alian" is a real Russian name, but it's fairly obscure.  
**

 **Hope you all enjoyed my first foray into writing anything really "romantic". Next update should be by this weekend. Hopefully.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	4. When Everything Sad Isn't Coming Untrue

**Author's Note: I have no idea where this chapter came from...**

 **I mean, I knew it was going to happen at some point...but I didn't expect it to be so _sad_! And hard to write.**

 **Two quick things:**

 **One: In this universe, PEGGY CARTER DOES NOT HAVE ALZHEIMERS. I don't even know if that's a canon thing for sure, but in my universe it is very much NOT. Because the entire Steve/Peggy romance is too darn sad already and...I just can't, okay? Besides, Peggy reminds me a bit of my grandma, who's lived a very full and interesting life, happens to be almost 90, and is still very much "with it". So yeah...**

 **Two: One thing that interested me in AoU, was that when Wanda got inside Steve's head, what he saw was him and Peggy together. I'm not exactly sure of what Wanda was specifically doing, but she seemed to be targeting either greatest fears or greatest regrets. So, for Steve, it would be greatest regret. And in this 'Verse...the fact that he was never able to be with Peggy is probably about the only thing he has left to really regret. Everything else has been redeemed somehow. So that thought plays into this chapter a bit.**

 **I hope you...enjoy. Or cry. Either would be acceptable. Feedback is always fantastic, as usual.**

 **UPDATE: I changed the chapter title, as an homage to one of my favorite Tolkien quotes (and a Jason Gray song). And because it's slightly less depressing, but still fits the tone of the chapter.**

 **And because...it fits.**

* * *

Chapter Four: When Everything Sad Isn't Coming Untrue

Christy hated hospitals.

True, this wasn't exactly a hospital. It was a _nursing facility_. A care home, her dad had called it.

Christy wasn't buying it.

It still smelled and looked and felt like a hospital; a sickly combination of antiseptic and stale air. Sturdy, fake-wood furniture with shiny plastic 'cushioning' sat in the small lobby area. A beat up flatscreen TV, perched on a rolling table, played the news. The floor was hard white tile with a weird color-splotch pattern.

Places like this, in all of Christy's nine years of living, had never meant anything good.

Steve stopped at the small front desk. "Go on, baby; why don't you surprise her? I'm gonna talk to the nurse for a moment."

Christy swallowed her tears. "Wh-what room, again?"

"Number 28. Down that hall." Steve pointed down a slightly dim, streching corridor. "I'll be down in a second."

It had just so happened that one of Christy's long weekends coincided with a weekend that Steve _wasn't_ away, so the two of them had plotted a visit to Washington D.C. Steve still owned the small apartment he'd stayed in and SHIELD had paid to have it fixed up after a certain…incident had occurred.

 _"_ _You mean the part where I smashed through a wall?" Bucky had muttered, half-snarky; half guilty._

Christy walked down the hallway Steve had indicated. Upon reaching Room 28, she peered in.

The room had a simple set up with a bed, small television, closet, night table, and chair. The bed was a metal one, the table and chair the same fake wood as all the other furniture. A window on the far side of the room gave a view of the street, the few trees already bare of leaves.

An older lady lay propped up in the bed, gazing out the window. Her gray, curled hair hung down to her shoulders amd her hands rested on the white comforter covering her.

"H-hi…" Christy said, garbled and shy. Fortunately, the woman still had very good hearing. She turned her head towards the door and immediately brightened.

"Christy? Hello, love! I didn't expect you today. Where's your father?"

Christy inched closer to the bed. "He's talking to the nurse. He said he'd be in soon."

Peggy Carter nodded. "Alright, then. Well, come closer, darling; I don't bite."

Christy sighed, sitting down next to the bed, in the chair. "I don't like hospitals." she said quietly. "Or places like hospitals. Because mom…" her face crumpled up a bit.

"Oh, oh; of course you don't…" Peggy soothed. "But it's not a hospital, darling, truly. I'm not that sick. Just old."

Christy sniffed. "Dad said I didn't have to come. But I wanted to see you. Also, it's kinda sad…you and Dad, I mean. It's worse than Titanic; cause Daddy didn't actually die..."

It was Christy's own opinion that the story of her dad and Peggy Carter was one of the saddest things on earth.

And of course, anything that hurt Steve, hurt her.

"Ah, I see." Peggy sighed. She reached out and grabbed Christy's hand. "Yes, it is sad. I won't lie. But I've lived a long life and done many wonderful things; and now your father gets that chance. And I'm so incredibly happy for him...there's so much he can do now." She smiled at Christy. "I always knew he'd make a wonderful father."

Christy gave a wobbly smile. "He's the best ever…"

"There, now, that's more like it! Your face looks better with a smile on it. Now come, tell me how you've been getting on in school."

Christy made a face. "School's school. It's okay most of the time. But everybody just seems…immature…"

Peggy shook her head. _For a child who has run the gauntlet of everything before reaching a decade…I'm not surprised._

"Is there _anything_ exciting about it?"

Christy shrugged. "I like to see my friends. And I like to read. Oh, and history! History's fun. We're finally gonna learn about World War II and I'm gonna know all the answers!" she pouted a bit. "Of course, I can't tell anybody else that, cause they'll ask why. So I gotta play dumb. Like a spy."

Peggy smirked. "Beginning espionage training so soon?"

"Well…I don't really wanna be a spy, cause it's kinda scary. Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint have some freaky stories…I wanna be a therapist, or a counselor. Help people with hurt brains and hurt hearts."

It was the mention of hurt brains that brought up something in Peggy's mind.

"I hear you've two new uncles in your Tower."

Christy smiled. "It's not _my_ Tower, it's Uncle Tony's. Technically. Or all of ours, I guess. And yeah…I like having two other people on our floor. It feels like a house and not a hotel room."

"Steve also told me you've been a big help to all of them."

Christy shrugged modestly. "I just try to be nice. And…Uncle Bucky was pretty banged up. Inside, I mean. Well, outside too, but mostly inside."

Peggy inhaled sharply, remembering all of Steve's news.

Bucky Barnes was back from the dead, as it were, but at the cost of having spent seventy years as a living weapon.

That the man was still functioning was a miracle.

Yet despite it all, she was still so, so happy, for Steve's sake. She could remember the days after Sergeant Barnes had fallen from the train, how Steve had stumbled about like a zombie; alive, but not really. It was all she could do to help him stay sane.

Christy frowned. "I don't like HYDRA." she said firmly. "They say they wanna bring order, but I think that's just a fancy way of saying they wanna be in charge of everything. The bad kind of in charge. Like the Nazis."

 _HYDRA_. That was the other thing. The organization she'd spent her entire life trying to combat and prevent from existing, and all this time it had been growing like a weed inside SHIELD. Inside _her_ organization…

Over the past three years since Steve had been found, Peggy had had to put so many of her dreams and regrets to death.

But SHIELD…that had been the hardest blow of all.

As though she could sense Peggy's mood (and why _shouldn't_ she be able to?) Christy was sitting quietly in the chair, her knees drawn up to her chin.

Peggy sighed. "I'm alright, darling. Just a lot to think about."

Christy nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I have Alexander Pierce, y'know the old SHIELD Secretary, the traitor…I have his face on my punching bag. And it's been beat up over fifty times in five months."

"So many times? By you?" That was a _bit_ concerning…

"Well…Uncle Bucky borrows it sometimes."

Peggy relaxed. "Ah. That makes sense."

It did indeed.

 _Punch him all you like for me, would you, Barnes?_

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Steve's head poked in the door, before he entered. "How're my two best girls?"

Christy stood up at once. "I'm gonna go the bathroom."

"Baby, you don't have to…" Steve started, but she was already halfway out the door.

"She's rather perceptive." Peggy said, a sparkle in her eye.

"Yeah…a bit _too_ perceptive." Steve sighed and sat down next to the bed. "How have you been, Peg?"

The woman smiled softly. "Can't complain, really. I get a parade of relatives through here at odd times. I have a lot of time to read…to think…"

"Think…" Steve sighed again. "Yeah, I'd imagine you would be doing a lot of that. It's been…a bit crazy at my place."

"'Crazy'. So you said in your letter." Peggy frowned. "Now, tell me truly, Steve, how has it been? Are you sleeping enough?"

"I'm sleeping fine!" Peggy raised an eyebrow. "When…when Bucky's not having a nightmare, or _I'm_ not having a…well, they aren't really nightmares, now."

"What do you see?"

"I see…I see us. I see what could have been. And I know it's stupid, and useless, but I can't help thinking what if…" He shook his head.

"And it's silly, isn't it? I tell Christy all the time, 'what ifs' are stupid. But…"

"It's rather harder to tell yourself, isn't it?"

"Yeah…much harder."

They lapsed into quiet, companionable silence. But Steve could only think one thing.

 _I know sometimes, dreams have to die so you can move on and make new ones.  
_

Sam had taught him about that one.

 _But why does it have to hurt so_ _ **bad**_ _…?_

Even shrunken and wrinkled, Peggy was still Peggy. If he shut his eyes, he could let himself be transported back across the years that had been stolen from him…back to a time when all was familiar…

"I know." Peggy's voice broke through his thoughts. "I know, Steve, it isn't fair. Especially not for you. You've had to let go of so much…so much has been taken from you. But never," her voice became fierce, "never lose sight of what you've been given. For God's sake, your friend came back to you from the living dead!"

Peggy's words had a clearing effect on his mind. Steve felt the shadow that had fallen over him grow less.

"I won't…" he croaked. "I couldn't. I still get up and have to rub my eyes, convince myself it's not a dream…" he choked back a sob. "He's been hurt, but he's _here_. And it's the most amazing thing. I don't care about the nightmares, the freezing up, the memory gaps…it's _Bucky_. He's back."

"I know…" Peggy smiled. "You've no idea how happy I am. I was so worried for you, after…" she trailed off.

Steve's eyes showed the pain that had dulled, but still not fully healed. "If it wasn't for you…I might have been dead for real. And now, he's back but you're…not." He shook his head and gave a mirthless chuckle. "I just can't win. We couldn't win."

"No…" Peggy said softly. "Not how you thought we would. Not how I thought."

Steve just sat quietly, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's all right, to mourn. To be a bit selfish." She smiled sadly. "God knows I did…"

"I know…" Steve finally choked out. "I know. For anything to die…that hurts. But a dead dream hurts the worst, I think."

"Well…" Peggy grabbed his hand lightly. "There's a spare pillow in that closet. If you're going to break down and don't want to frighten anyone in the corridor half to death with screams…"

"I wouldn't scream…I don't scream."

Peggy just shook her head. "I did."

And that did it. The thought of Peggy in pain, Peggy thinking he was dead…

Something large and heavy and kicking broke loose inside Steve's chest. He threw open the closet door, and grabbed the pillow that rested neatly on a little shelf. In one, fluid motion, he shoved it to his face…

And howled. Quietly, but God help him, he _howled_.

Because Peggy was right. He'd been running so fast, ever since he'd woken up, that he'd never gotten to properly mourn. Not for this.

He'd mourned the loss of everything familiar…but not that specific dream of growing old with the woman he loved, of having a normal home…

Somehow, he managed to grope his way back to that stupid chair. And he sat there for what felt like an eternity.

The next thing he was aware of was a tiny hand rubbing circles all over his back.

He poked his head up. Christy was back. He tried to duck his head down again, but she caught his chin.

"You _promised_." she whispered. "You promised I could always see you cry."

Steve let out a shuddering breath. "I know, baby." He turned back to Peggy, with her gentle, sad gaze. "I…I'm okay now. I think."

From the twist of her lips, he was sure Peggy didn't buy that at all.

"I…will be okay?"

"That's better. And believable." She reached out and touched his shoulder. "It's going to take time…" she sighed wearily. "A long time…"

"Are you getting tired?" Steve asked with concern. "Maybe we should go."

"No, don't…at least stay until I fall asleep."

It was all Steve could do not to cry, again.

Christy tugged on his sleeve. "Dad, tell Aunt Peggy about when Uncle Bucky found out you jumped out of a plane without a parachute and he dragged you off and yelled at you…"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Why don't _you_ tell that one, since _you're_ the one who seems to find it funny."

Even dozing off, Peggy was able to smirk. "Did it beat out the time he found out about the grenade?"

"Probably not, considering the whole camp heard that one…"

Christy even winced. "Uncle Bucky's not that loud…"

"He used to be…" Steve said, shaking his head. "But tell the story, baby. I've been talking for a while."

"Okay." Christy drew herself up and began. "It all started when we were eating breakfast on the Common Floor…"

By the time the story was over, Peggy had quietly dozed off. Steve smiled and brushed his hand over her hair tenderly.

"I'll be back tomorrow." he whispered. "We both will."

They left the facility, heading up the street. It was in walking distance from the apartment. Christy was holding Steve's had so tight, he swore it would soon turn red.

But oddly enough, he didn't mind it.

He was still thinking about dreams. About starting over. About loss and regret…

 _Once I built a railroad, I made it run_

 _Made it race against time_

 _Once I built a railroad, now it's done_

 _Brother, can you spare a dime?_

The lyrics of so long ago (but it wasn't really all that long!) ran through his mind. Sure, he hadn't had a railroad, but he'd built…something. A vague hope. A dream.

Peace…

He remembered Bucky's words to him a few weeks back: _"If it wasn't HYDRA, it'd be someone else. People always try to rule the world. Every age, every generation…it's all the same."_

Christy looked up at him. "Are you gonna be okay?" she asked, her brow knit with worry.

Steve reached down and swung her up on his hip. He always felt a hilarious amount of satisfaction that he was able to still do that, even though she was now at least half a foot taller and twenty pounds heavier than when he'd first adopted her.

"I'm…I'm tired, baby; that's all. It's been a long day."

 _It's been a long three years._

Christy laid her head on his shoulder. "I love you. I'm sorry. I know it's gotta hurt..."

 _This isn't about you._ The thought flew through his brain, fast as lightning.

Steve sighed. It was true. Everything he did; every HYDRA nest he took down, every conspiracy unmasked or alien destroyed…all his Avenging…

It wasn't about him anymore. It was more than personal. Because his daughter deserved to inherit the world better than what it currently was.

He thought of the song lyrics again.

 _Who needs a dime? Better yet, who needs a railroad?_ He smiled a bit, down at Christy, her blond hair gleaming in the sun. _I've got crystal and gold right here. And maybe someday…_

Maybe it was time to start dreaming again.

* * *

 **And...cue heartbreak. Because with all the Bucky angst and feels running around, it's easy to forget that Steve still has his issues, too. My poor boy... :(**

 **The lyrics are from "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime", a very well-known Depression-era song.**

 **Anyway, I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but it will involve a Very Special Cameo by everyone's favorite trickster (or at least my universe's version). That was gonna be this chapter, but I kinda got writers block on it. Loki's always a bit hard for me to write.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	5. Tall, Dark, and Snarky, Times Two

**Well, for everyone who wanted a chapter with a Loki cameo, it's finally here! _Finally_ _._ Good grief, I'd forgotten how hard it is for me write Loki; it's extremely tricky getting inside his head. And writing him interacting with Bucky was, for some reason, doubly hard.  
**

 **Anyone who's read my story "I Dream Things That Never Were (And Ask Why Not)" know that my universe's Loki is different than in cannon. Mainly, he's had a redemption arc and several epiphanies about...various things. So he's not a jerk, but he's still snarky. Hence my difficulty in writing him, because it's hard to find the right balance to express this.**

 **Basically, if you haven't read "I Dream Things..." you should probably go check it out, in order for this chapter to really make sense.**

 **But anyway, on with the story! Hope you enjoy. Feedback, as always, is very, very appreciated.**

* * *

Chapter Five: Tall, Dark, and Snarky; Times Two

On the high, stone balcony that looked out over all of Asgard, Loki stood still, as though gazing out at the people and buildings below him would solve the restless feeling inside him.

He missed Thor. Here, alone and in private, he could let himself admit it. Ever since his return from exile, the two had been practically inseparable. But Thor was back on Midgard now, in search of his old staff (and the mind stone contained therein).

To speak (or think) even more truthfully, he was missing a few other things (people) on Midgard as well. He was debating going to pay Heimdall a visit, when a voice suddenly sounded behind him.

"You are much quieter of late. You miss him."

It was Sif. Strangely enough, in the time since Thor's departure, she had taken to subtly checking on his state of well-being. Loki supposed it might have something to do with guilt over that incident between them on Midgard, or perhaps out of love for Thor.

Or maybe she didn't hate him quite as much as he thought. Things had changed since the Dark Elves attacked (since Frigga had almost perished…).

Loki clenched his teeth and refused to allow his mind to go in that direction.

"Perhaps I do." he said quietly. "And what of it? We are brothers, after all."

"After all…" Sif echoed. "Indeed. And you have been going to see Heimdall quite a bit." She came up and stood beside him. "I'd wager that Thor is not the only one on Midgard you miss. The little girl has surely grown older."

Loki smirked a bit. "Yes. Well. Children do tend to do that, you know."

"I'm aware, trickster." Sif muttered, though with less malice than she might once have. "You have yet to go back, since your exile."

"If you haven't noticed, I've been a bit busy!"

Sif rolled her eyes. "Aye, I've noticed. Everyone has. That is why your father asked me to find you…apparently your presence is requested in his study."

Loki frowned. That Odin would ask to meet in his study was significant—it meant privacy from prying eyes and ears, so it also meant something important.

"Thank you, then. I'll…go now."

Sif nodded and hid a smirk as Loki walked bewilderedly off toward Odin's study.

 _You're going to enjoy this summons, trickster, I promise._

* * *

"Pardon me…I must be going deaf. You're asking me to do _what_?"

"I'm asking you to make an official visit to Midgard, so that you may make a report back to me on Thor's progress toward finding the mind stone." Odin repeated patiently, once more casting a sweeping gaze over his youngest

Yes, Loki definitely needed to get _off_ of Asgard, after everything that had occurred in the last year. Or maybe just in close proximity to Thor.

That was it.

"But couldn't you just ask _Heimdall_ , the one who _sees everything_ what's going on?" Loki said, not sure where his father was going with this.

"I could…but it would lack the personal touch of a hand delivered report. Or mouth-delivered in this case. And…you are his brother. You will know how he is truly doing."

All very sound reasoning…but Loki still smelled a rat. He glanced at Odin suspiciously for a moment, until the older man huffed in exasperation.

"Come, come, Loki; I'm practically gift-wrapping you a chance to return to Midgard! Now, are you going to continue this staring match, or are you going to start packing?"

Loki's skeptical gaze slowly gave way to a small smile as he saw that his father was truly serious.

"I…believe I'll start packing, then. Has mother been informed?"

"And who do you think proposed the idea?" Odin replied. "Be _safe_ , my son."

 _My son_. It still felt good to hear that, after all that had happened. Loki felt a small twinge of excitement at returning to the place where he had learned that no rift was ever beyond mending.

"I'll be staying with the so-called _Earth's Mightiest Heroes_ , what could possibly go wrong?" he said mildly.

Odin just shook his head. "One never knows, on that realm."

As Loki exited the study, he let the pleased expression on his face morph into outright happiness.

He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this 'assignment'.

* * *

"Are you ready, my prince?"

Loki grinned, really grinned, as Heimdall uttered the words. "I am. It's been far too long."

"Where would you have me open the portal, then?"

This time the grin was a smirk. "The Common Floor of Avenger's Tower."

In an instant, he found himself standing exactly there.

He frowned, glancing around the Floor. Stark had done some re-decorating since the last time he was here (he was fairly sure that staircase was new and so was the furniture; though the bar and kitchen remained in place) but it was distinctly empty of people.

Cloaked in invisibility spells, Loki had been hoping to surprise everyone in the Tower.

(Mostly because he wanted to see the looks on everyone's faces when he showed up out of nowhere.)

Unfortunately, he had forgotten one small detail…

"Hello, Mr. Odinson. Sir has already been alerted to your presence."

Loki cursed quietly.

 _I forgot about the AI…_

"Hello, Jarvis." he said, flashing his normal, charming smile and uncloaking himself. "And hello, Stark, because I'm quite sure you can see me."

There was a small pause, almost as if Jarvis was taking a message from Tony.

"Mr. Stark's words are, and I quote, 'What the hell are you doing here, Reindeer Games? Some of us just got back from a mission and jet lag sucks.'"

Loki frowned. "What's jet lag?"

"A psychological and somewhat physical condition in humans that occurs due to disruption of the body's natural rhythms and sleep patterns. It usually occurs after long-distance air travel, which most residents of the Tower have experienced within the last 24 hours."

"Ah. I see. I take it that most everyone is asleep, then?"

"That would be correct. You might want to retreat up to your brother's floor, until they are a bit more…civil." The AI paused again. "Sir wishes to say that he was perfectly civil, thank you very much."

Loki smirked. He rather liked Jarvis. "Tell him that I'm quite sure. At any rate, I do believe I will take your advice."

He got on the elevator and pushed a dimly familiar button. It was such a strange feeling, being back. Everything was the same, and yet…a dark cloud of foreboding seemed to hang over the atmosphere.

Something was going to happen soon, of that he was sure.

* * *

Although Thor was more or less immune to what the rest of his team referred to as 'jet lag', he was still rather tired after their last skirmish with yet another HYDRA base.

Had it been twelve? Thirteen? He'd lost count.

He was lying in bed, in that drowsy place halfway between waking and sleeping when he felt the distinct presence of someone else in his room.

Considering that anyone living in the Tower would have knocked…

Careful to keep his muscles relaxed, Thor opened his eyes the barest amount to peer through his eyelashes.

When dark hair and pale skin filled that blurry image, his eyes shot open immediately.

Loki smirked as Thor sat up in bed and gaped at him in shock. "Miss me, brother?"

"You! I…Loki…" Thor stood up and smashed his brother in a very strong embrace.

While the physical contact was nice (there was no one quite like Thor for physical contact)…

"Thor! Thor! Let me _breathe_ , you oaf!" The grip loosened. Loki sighed. "By the Norns, I've missed you…" he muttered, quick and low. Thor was the sappy one, after all, not him! He had a reputation to keep up!

"I can't believe it!" Thor cried, releasing Loki from a full-on hug, but still grabbing his shoulders. "You're here…" He suddenly frowned. "Has something happened? Do I need to…"

"No, no, nothing of the kind! Father wanted a report on your progress of tracking down the mind stone."

Thor relaxed. "Ah, I see. Well, I wish I had better news to report, but unfortunately, we're no closer to tracking down the mind stone than when we began. These bases…they're like insects! They multiply _everywhere_ , but still no stone!" He stopped, his face twisted in frustration. "You will stay for dinner?"

Loki fought the urge to burst out laughing. " _Of course_ I'll stay, you idiot. I'll stay for several days if it's no trouble..."

"Trouble?" Thor smirked. "Brother, nothing could be more trouble than the last time you stayed in this Tower. Compared to then…no trouble at all."

* * *

Sam turned to Steve in the elevator on the way down to the Common Floor. "So let me get this straight. The guy who tried to level Manhattan is currently in our 'living room'?"

Steve sighed. "Yes. Apparently." He shot a backwards glance at Bucky, standing quietly behind him.

It wasn't that he was _unhappy_ Loki had shown up…and Bucky was a thousand times better about meeting new people now than he had been several months ago…

But still. It was _Loki_.

Bucky caught the glance and rolled his eyes. "I'm _fine_ , punk. When are ya gonna stop treating me like I'm made 'a glass?"

Steve rolled his eyes back. "Welcome to my world, or my _former_ world, at least. This is payback, pal."

Before Bucky could come up with some kind of reply, Christy cut in. "It's okay, Dad. Uncle Loki will behave. If he doesn't, I'll glare at him."

Sam smirked. "And the sad part, gentlemen? That would probably be effective."

But a glare was the last thing on Christy's face as the elevator opened on the Common Floor.

Loki and Thor were leaning against the bar counter, having some kind of conversation with Bruce and Tony. Christy shot out of the elevator.

"Uncle Loki!"

Loki whirled around just in time to get a chest-full of nine year old.

"You're back, you're back, you're _back_!"

"Well, I did promise…"

Christy stepped back and crossed her arms. "Yeah, almost _two years ago_!"

"It's been busy!"

"Uncle Thor told us. But he came back."

"I am not an Avenger."

"That can be arranged."

Loki actually laughed at that one, while his gaze swept over Christy in more detail.

Her hair was still long and blonde, probably a bit longer. Her smile was still bright and luminous. But something had changed.

And it wasn't just the fact that she was taller and her body was starting to look less like a small child's.

Her eyes were shining, but they were ringed in shadow.

 _She's seen things…felt things no child should have to, even more than before._

Innocence appeared to have given way to a determined idealism.

"You've grown so…" he whispered.

Christy sighed. "Why does _everybody_ say that? I _know_ I've grown!"

But a small glance at and a nod from Steve was enough to confirm his suspicions. Much had changed since he'd been away.

"I brought you something." he said, holding out a small, rectangular package.

Christy grabbed it eagerly. "Thank you! Is it a book? I love books…" she tore off the wrapping paper to find a leather-bound journal with her name written across the cover in golden calligraphy.

She gently opened the book and discovered an inscription written in flowing handwriting.

"' _May this book be a place of sanctuary when all safe places are gone. Remember that words are stronger than any weapon._ ' Oooh! I like it! Thank you, Uncle Loki."

"So where's my present, Reindeer Games?" Tony said, feigning a hurt tone.

Loki spread his hands out and smirked in that endearingly annoying manner of his. "Is not my glorious presence enough of a gift, Stark?"

Sam snorted. "Oh yeah, this is definitely the guy that tried to take over the world." He walked over and stuck out his hand. "Sam Wilson. Resident flying sniper and token only sane man." Jerking his head back at Steve, he added, "I do everything he does, just slower."

"You don't do _everything_ I do…" Steve muttered.

"Ah, you're right…I don't jump outta planes with no parachute."

Steve growled lightly. "One time, _one time_ , over _water_ …I'm never gonna live that one down, am I?"

"Nope." Came the sound from nearly everyone else in the room.

Loki returned Sam's handshake and then glanced over to where Bucky stood quietly, taking in everything. "And you are?"

It was an utterly rhetorical question. Heimdall could not see things in great detail, perhaps, but he could see enough that both Thor and Loki had been kept up-to-date on what was occurring on Midgard.

Loki had heard bits and pieces of Steve's story during his exile period…and considering the fact that Steve's body language looked very like _Thor's_ when someone would challenge _him_ …

It was rather obvious who this was.

Bucky sighed and moved forward. "Bucky Barnes." he said quietly. It was a good thing that Loki was nowhere near as physically intimidating as Thor. "Heard a few things about you."

"Likewise." Loki said calmly. "It's a pleasure to meet the only man that could keep Captain America in check."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Welcome back, Loki." Suddenly, his eyes roved the room. "Where's Tasha and Clint?"

"They took off for the weekend, remember?" Bruce said quickly (and a little sadly).

"Oh, right." The blond sighed. "I still wish I knew where those two run off to."

Tony shrugged. "Eh, they probably have a secret love child somewhere."

Bruce gave Tony a very withering glare. Christy looked put out.

"Nuh- _uh_." she said. "Not after all my matchmaking!"

Loki's eyebrows shot up. "Matchmaking?"

Bruce turned a very interesting shade of deep pink.

 _Well_ _ **this**_ _is new._ Loki thought. His brain scrabbled to process the idea of the gentle, guilt-ridden scientist and the devious ex-assassin as a pair.

Somehow…the idea wasn't entirely insane.

"So…how've things been on Asgard lately?" Bruce asked, blatantly trying to change the subject.

"Quite well, though rather busy. There was a lot of damage after the Dark Elves attacked." Loki grinned in Thor's direction. "The statue of our grandfather now has his head back, Thor."

Thor rolled his eyes.

"Why does that matter?" Sam asked, waiting for the inevitable story behind such a remark.

"Well, Thor, ah…sort of decapitated said statue while attempting to fly a ship out of Asgard to go and confront the leader of the Dark Elves. When father had specifically told us not to go. And while we were being shot at."

There was dead silence for a moment.

"You never told us that part…" Christy said, looking at Thor accusingly.

"Yeah, I'm with the kid on this one, Point Break." Tony chimed in. "Let's hear this thing in full. All you ever told us was some mumbo-jumbo about Dark Elves and a magic substance and the end of the world…or whatever…"

As Thor protested that the events of last fall involved a good deal more than that, Loki quietly faded into the background and made his way over towards Bucky.

He couldn't help it. The man intrigued him a great deal.

"So…" he muttered, once he was sure that Bucky was aware of his close proximity. "What sort of things did you hear about me?"

He cursed internally. _Smooth, Silvertongue,_ _ **smooth**_ _._

Bucky shrugged. "Heard the usual, 'bout how you sorta leveled Manhattan. Tried to rule the world. All that. Also heard your childhood was less than ideal." He paused. "The kid likes you."

His tone implied _so you're okay in my book_.

Loki let out a soft laugh. "You're taking character references from an eight year old?"

"Nine." Bucky corrected swiftly. Loki froze, appeared to be conducting a mental count, and then shook his head.

"Nine. Of course…I've been away too long."

There was silence for a moment.

"To answer your question, yeah, I do take character references from a nine year old. She's a pretty decent judge of character. But Steve…he said you were all right, too."

"I'm not surprised to hear that, considering he was the only one besides my brother that didn't want to murder me when I was exiled here."

Bucky shrugged. "Steve's…different. He'll give ya a chance, and five more besides, but take advantage of people he cares about and…well, you'll kinda wish you weren't born." He nodded at Christy. "She picked that up from him."

"Indeed. I would hate to be the true enemy of either of them." Loki gave Bucky another sideways look. "I was told you fell off a train…"

Bucky let out a harsh sigh. "Yup…off of a train, off of a mountain, into the snow." He shuddered. "Heard you fell off a bridge, into space."

"I let go. I…I was angry." Loki hung his head a bit. "Foolish and angry."

"And they thought you were dead." Bucky added.

"Yes…" Loki sighed. "Looking back, I rather wish I could have avoided that part. But I truly thought no one would mourn me if I were to die."

Bucky shot Loki a slightly incredulous look. "Jeez, you _really_ weren't thinkin' straight. Thor…he's with you like Steve is with me. He'd take on everything to make sure you were okay. It's an older brother thing. I have it too, which makes for some serious head-butting, now. I was always the oldest, and Steve was a shrimp, a pipsqueak. Now…" he shook his head. "Now it's hard. Lettin' someone else fight for me, even just about little things."

"It's rather hard when you're the younger, as well." Loki muttered. "Older brothers cast long shadows. Sometimes, they're comforting. Other times…suffocating."

"We don't try to do it." Bucky said quietly, almost apologetic. He knew Loki was right. Steve had never really been jealous of him _per_ _se_ , but Bucky had seen it in his eyes, the embarrassment when everyone looked at tall, strong, confident Bucky Barnes, and ignored skinny, asthmatic Steve Rogers.

He was just glad that he'd apparently been a bit more observant than Thor, growing up, and had consistently reminded Steve of his good qualities again and again.

"I know that now." Loki said firmly. And indeed, he did. He and Thor had more than made up.

The level of noise started to decrease as Thor finished his more complete rendering of the fight against Malekeith.

"Okay, but seriously, you have spaceships on Asgard?" Tony cried. "Why did nobody ever tell me this?"

Thor smirked. "It never came up."

"What, did you think Asgard was some sort of technological backwater, Stark?" Loki snarked.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Well, considering the two of you sound like you fell out of Middle Earth…"

"Yeah, but Tony, we never did ask…" Bruce pointed out.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Bruce! Science bros for life remember?"

"He's supposed to be on your side, even if you're _wrong?"_ Sam questioned.

"I'm Tony Stark! I'm always the right side to be on, even if I'm wrong!"

"Coulda fooled me…" Bucky said, quiet as usual, but with sarcasm leaking out.

Steve couldn't help but grin. Bucky's recovery of the sass and sarcasm that had pervaded his speech before the fall was as much a victory as his recovery of anything else.

Tony groaned. "Great. Tall, dark, and snarky, times two. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the lab; I've done my social quota for the day."

Loki grinned as the banter he'd missed began to ebb and flow like a current.

Even if it was for just a short time, it was good to be back.

* * *

 **Welp...that's that. As I said, any questions about Loki's characterization can probably be answered by reading "I Dream Things..." To my reviewers who asked for a Loki cameo, I hope you were pleased with this. Next chapter should be up sometime early this week. (Hopefully.)  
**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	6. I'll Dance With Cinderella

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone!**

 **So, I've had this idea in my head for a very long time, like, since last _March_ 'long time'. Basically, if you haven't seen the live action Disney _Cinderella_ movie, that's what's discussed in this chapter (and spoilered...as much as you can spoiler a centuries-old fairy tale...). I'm not usually much for romantic-type movies, but for some reason...I really, really liked it. A lot. I would recommend it highly to anyone looking for a good, clean, feel-good movie. **

**Also, because I know I do a lot of time skips in my universe, this chapter is set in March of 2015. Last chapter was set...I'm gonna say January or February of 2015. Yes, I skipped over the 2014 holidays, but if you want holiday stories, go read chapters 14-16 of "We Can Be Found". I'm trying to move into my 'during' and 'post' AoU oneshots because I've got some interesting stuff planned. (Dealing with the fallout of that movie is gonna be _fun...)._**

 **On another note, thanks _SO_ much to everyone leaving reviews. They really do mean a lot to me. I would ask, though, that if you leave a review, try to list something specific you enjoyed about the chapter, so I know what my readers enjoy. (I already know what I like ;)). Also, as a writer, reviews are more helpful to me than favorites or follows. (I know, I know; I sound like a broken record...).  
**

 **Anyway, on with the story. Hope you enjoy.**

 _ **"Italics in quotes"**_ **indicates movie quotes. _Italics without quotes_ indicates thoughts.**

* * *

Chapter Six: "I'll Dance With Cinderella"

"Dad?"

Steve looked up from the tablet he was blearily flipping through, attempting to do research on yet another HYDRA base. Christy stood in front of the couch, her hands behind her back, swaying a little.

"Yeah, baby; what's goin' on?"

Christy opened her mouth like she was going to say something…and then shut it just as quickly.

"I know it's your birthday soon." Steve continued, guessing she was trying to ask for something for said occasion.

Christy looked floored. "You remembered?"

Steve felt as though he'd been sucker-punched in the gut.

"C'mon, sit down." he said, his heart pounding like a drum. Christy did. "Now, whaddaya mean 'I remembered'? I know when your birthday is! Did you think I'd forget?"

 _Please say no. Please tell me I haven't completely failed at fatherhood…_

Christy shook her head, looking embarrassed.

"No, but…you've been really busy lately. And kinda tired."

"Crystal."

Christy looked up at her dad, shocked. The only time he ever called her by her full name was when he was deadly serious or she was seriously in trouble.

"The day I am too busy to remember your birthday, or anything else you deem important, is the day I stop my Avenging." He grabbed her hand. "You come first. Always. Now, what did you want for your birthday? Ten's a pretty significant one."

"You and a movie…" Christy mumbled. Steve grinned.

"I think I can manage that."

"And…and cake. Cake's good. One of those cookie-cakes, y'know, the kind that are basically a giant cookie with frosting? Except I want a snickerdoodle one, not chocolate chip."

Steve's grin got even wider. "Okay; me, a movie, and a giant cookie with frosting. Anything else? Like a sleepover?"

"Sleepovers are good…"

"Alright, just tell me what day. What movie did you want to see?"

"Cinderella…the new one that just came out; it has actual people and not animation. I…I know it's a princess movie, but…"

Steve snorted. "What's wrong with princess movies? Did I ever tell you about how I saw _Snow White_ on its opening theater run?"

Christy shook her head and leaned into her dad, in anticipation of a good story. "Nuh-uh."

"Well, I did. I was interested in the way the animation was done, and any chance to go to the movies was a good thing back then, so…"

* * *

By the time the Friday before Christy's birthday had rolled around, "you and a movie" had expanded to include Natasha as well. Princess movies, Disney or otherwise, were one of her guilty pleasures.

"You do realize it cost more to buy popcorn and drinks than the actual _tickets_?" Steve hissed as the three of them found seats.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Quit sounding like such an old man; it's how the theater makes their money!"

They settled into good seats; the theater was only about half-full, mostly with young children and parents.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of previews, the movie actually began.

 _"_ _Once upon a time…"_ the narration began, _"there was a girl, named Ella. And she saw the world not always as it was, but as perhaps it could be; with just a little bit…of magic._

Christy's eyes were glued to the screen, transfixed by the idyllic, happy family it showed.

Natasha leaned over to Steve. "Nah, pretty sure this kid's name was _Christy_."

Steve gave a quiet laugh, though he couldn't help but draw parallels to his daughter and the adorable little girl on the screen.

He wondered, idly, what Christy had been like as a baby, a toddler. Had she been loud or quiet? Maybe solemn, gazing at everything with those big eyes of hers…

 _She's growing up way too fast…_

Somehow, the happy opening scene managed to make the trio forget that this was the story of _Cinderella_ , whose problems began because her mother _died_.

 _"_ _But sorrow can come to any kingdom, no matter how happy…"_

Steve could hear Christy breathing in short, erratic gasps beside him. Acting on reaction, he simply reached over and pulled her onto his lap.

" _Mommy…_ " he heard her whisper.

It only got worse.

As Ella was led into the room where her dying mother lay, Steve could feel all his protective instincts cry out…three years too late.

 _I wish I had been there…was Christy that small, that fragile? Were the doctors and nurses understanding? Did someone give her a hug, let her know she'd be safe…?_

It hurt, sometimes, that so much had happened to Christy outside of his control. He'd tried to make up for it since, but still…

 _"_ _Ella…I want to tell you a secret. A great secret that will see you through all the trials that life has to offer…have courage and be kind…you have more kindness in your little finger than most people possess in their whole bodies! And it has_ _ **power**_ _…more than you know."_

Christy was sobbing quietly, her tears soaking into Steve's shirt.

"You gonna be okay?" Natasha asked quietly.

Christy nodded. "I wanna watch. Mom…Mom told me something like that. To be brave and look for the best in people. And I try…I try so hard..."

 _I don't think I do a good enough job sometimes…_

"And you do it great." Steve whispered firmly. "I know she would be proud of you."

 _"_ _I must go very soon, my love…please forgive me?"_

 _"_ _Of course I forgive you!"_

"Of course I forgive you…" Christy echoed. "You didn't want to go…"

Natasha felt a very large lump start to form in the back of her throat. A quick glance at Steve told her that he was having the same problem.

Luckily, the movie went on, and the plot soon gave them another emotion to dwell on; righteous anger.

"I _hate_ the stepmother…" Christy hissed. "She's creepy and cold and…ugh!"

"Manipulative." Natasha added.

"Please never try to set me up with anyone like this." Steve muttered.

"Please. As if any of us would let you marry or date a creep like that." Natasha hissed, shuddering at the very thought. "Tony would do a background check. And so would I."

"Good." Steve couldn't help but sympathize with Ella's father…the poor man had lost his first love and was clearly lonely. But at the same time…

 _Oh God, never let me be that desperate! Please, never let me be that desperate! My kid comes first, always!_

"Singing while doing chores?" Natasha whispered a few scenes later. "Running around like the personification of all things happy? Oh, yeah, this is definitely Christy."

The movie went on, chronicling (Cinder)Ella's increasingly unhappy home life and first meeting with the prince. Through it all, the trio kept up a whispered commentary (quiet and spread out enough not to be annoying), mostly directed towards mocking the stepmother and stepsisters.

"What are they wearing, lollipops?" Steve muttered, shaking his head at the 'ugly' duo's ball gowns.

"Yeah, and the _femme fatale_ thinks _that's_ gonna win them the prince…" Natasha said back, shaking her head.

"She's a jerk…and she only likes them 'cause she thinks one of them could marry the prince and get her the money…" Christy whispered. "She's nuts!"

 _"_ _It would ruin my daughters' prospects to be seen with a ragged servant girl! For that is what you are…and that is what you will always be! Now, mark my words: you shall_ _ **not**_ _go to the ball!"_

Christy, predictably, already had her hands balled into fists. But Natasha…

"Yes, she will, _suka_ …" Natasha said, almost _snarling._ Steve's eyebrows raised just a tiny amount at the word and he bumped Natasha's shoulder in question.

"She's a terrible person…" was all Natasha would add in English, clearly restraining herself.

Steve didn't press the matter further, though he was sure there was some deep-seated sore spot buried behind the outburst.

 _Maybe I can casually mention it later…_

When the Fairy Godmother changed Cinderella's dress, Christy's eyes went wide.

"Dad, I want that dress, I want that dress, I _really_ want that dress!"

"Okay, okay…" Steve hushed. "I'll work on it…"

He made a mental note to seek out Tony, back at the Tower. He'd know where to find something as close to the movie dress as possible. The man had contacts like crazy…

"Sure you don't want glass slippers, too?" he added, as that scene occurred.

Christy shook her head. "Nah, high heels are annoying. Dunno why grown-ups wear them."

 _Glass slippers, minus the heel, then._ Steve thought, smirking. _Maybe not actual glass. There's got to be some kind of fabric that looks like glass…_

 _"_ _Now, off you go…for you_ _ **shall**_ _go to the ball…"_

Natasha breathed out a long, faintly shaky sigh. Steve frowned.

 _Oh, yeah, this is coming up later…  
_

At the ball scene, Steve could feel his artistic side kicking in at the sight of so many bright colors and gorgeous set pieces.

 _"_ _They're all looking at you…"_

 _"_ _Believe me, they're all looking at_ _ **you**_ _."_ said the prince, his gaze clearly love-struck.

Christy leaned over onto Steve's shoulder. "It's so beautiful…" she sighed.

Steve smiled.

"Is a boy ever gonna look at me like that?"

Steve choked on the sip of Coke he'd just taken. Natasha snorted.

"Yes, one will." she said. "But don't expect it too soon, m'kay? Save your dad a heart attack…"

"Okay…"

The movie meandered on at a sweet, enjoyable pace, even if some of the events shown were not so sweet. By the time the prince arrived at Ella's house, Steve was sure that Christy was mentally wringing the stepmother's neck.

It would be a lie to say the idea wasn't satisfying…

 _"_ _Are you sure there is no other maiden in your house?"_

 _"_ _No…"_

 _"_ _Then has your_ _ **cat**_ _learned to sing?"_

Steve gave Natasha a glance, grinning. "And _that_ would be Bucky."

Natasha nodded. "Or Bruce, honestly. He's kinda good at that whole quiet sass thing."

"He hangs around with Tony, are you surprised?"

"Nope…"

 _"_ _I forbid you to do this!"_

 _"_ _And I forbid you to forbid her! Who are you to stop an officer of the king? Are you an empress? A saint? A deity?"_

 _"_ _I am her mother!"_

Christy made a slightly-too-loud scoffing sound. Steve hushed her, even as he was aware of Natasha hissing an angry Russian rant under her breath.

 _"_ _You have never been…and you will never be my mother…"_

"Yeah…" Christy said, thumping her fist quietly against her open palm. "Tell 'er."

 _"_ _Would who she was, who she really was, be enough? There was no magic to help her this time. This is perhaps the greatest risk that any of us will ever take, to be seen as we truly are…"_

No one had any comment to make to this.

 _To be seen as we truly are…to be found._

* * *

The story ended happily, as all good fairy tales do. The three of them made their way out of the theater, into the cold March night.

"Did you like it?" Steve asked, as Christy twirled around on the sidewalk, humming _Lavender's Blue._

The girl beamed. "Uh-huh!" She grabbed his hand. "Dance with me, Dad!"

"Right in the parking lot?"

"Why not? It's a free country!" Christy tugged at him. "Puh- _lease_ , Daddy?"

Steve looked at Natasha, who was shaking her head. "Go on, I'll make sure you two idiots don't get hit by a car."

 _And I'll also be filming…_

Seeing no other alternative, Steve went ramrod straight, and bowed. "May I have this dance, princess?"

Christy giggled. "Yes, you may."

She took his hands and the two spun around the sidewalk in a partial imitation of the grand dance from the movie. Steve finished things by grabbing Christy up and twirling her around in the air.

Happy and laughing, they walked back to Natasha, who was putting away her phone.

"Well, she'll sleep tonight." Steve quipped.

"And _this_ is going on Youtube."

"Tasha!"

"What, it's too dark to see your face! Nobody will know. I can see it now, 'Adorable Father/Daughter dance'! Add in a little music, and it becomes instantly viral!"

Steve rolled his eyes. "'Viral' equals 'attention'. I do know that much. And 'attention' equals 'problem'."

"Alright, alright; so touchy!"

"Forgive me for being a little wary of technology, especially when a sentient computer tried to kill both of us!"

"You're seriously comparing Youtube to _Zola_?" Natasha shook her head.

"Oh, I give up!" Christy climbed in the back of the car (the same black SUV that Tony had more or less gifted to Steve), and Steve took the driver's seat. Natasha stole shotgun, as usual.

There was a peaceful silence over the car for the next few minutes, especially from the back seat.

"She asleep?" Steve asked.

Natasha craned her neck back. "Oh, yeah, out like a light."

Steve nodded. "Good." He paused, not sure how to bring up what he wanted to. "You…seemed a little upset, in the movie. At…certain parts."

He expected denial, an excuse, a brush off.

"That woman reminded me of one of the Red Room instructors."

Steve nodded carefully, but said nothing. He was willing to let that be the end of it, if Natasha didn't want to go further.

"She was cold, hard…like all the others, really, but she went out of her way to be brutal. Not physically, but…psychologically." Natasha sighed. "There was a special holiday in town, one day. We'd finished our daily training and homework, we thought, 'why not.' Dunno how we found out about it, but…we asked permission to go…probably a stupid idea, we should have just snuck out…"

"She said no." Steve guessed.

"She said we were wasting our time…that we had no place in the world. We were nothing but tools. Barely human. That everyone would run away from us in fear…"

There was a pause.

"Her name in the Room was _Matushka_." Natasha practically spit the word out. Steve winced.

His Russian was terrible, but not that terrible.

Matuska. _Mother_.

There was silence again.

"That's why I was…emotional." She pronounced 'emotional' like the greatest weakness imaginable.

"Y'know…" Steve muttered. "Funny thing about emotions. They're what show you you're alive. Human. Not just surviving, but…living."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"You don't still believe that whole 'love is for children' thing…?"

"No. Not really. I don't think I ever did. I think…I think I had a bad definition for love. Maybe for emotion, too."

"If it helps…she was wrong. Really wrong. What happened to you…wasn't right." Steve tried to put all the feeling he could into those words, though they felt pitifully small up against decades of conditioning and harsh experiences.

Natasha gave him a weak smile. "It helps. The hardest part's in my head, so...it helps. Thanks."

* * *

"Christy! Come out! I've got a surprise for you!"

Christy jolted back into the realm of reality as she sat on her bed, immersed in her latest book. It was a few days after her birthday.

"Coming, Dad!" she called.

 _I wonder what…_

She went out into the living room. Bucky and Sam were out there, along with Steve and…Tony? (Tony, who was _never_ on their floor…)

Christy looked around suspiciously. "What's up?"

Tony scoffed. " 'What's up'? Don't you teach your kid better manners than that, Rogers? She's getting a birthday present, after all!"

"I think you're the last person to be lecturing anyone on manners, Stark." Bucky muttered.

"Alright, let's not start a brawl." Sam said, passing Christy a large, floppy package. "This is your late birthday present, kid. It took its own sweet time getting here."

Christy looked excited now. "Oh, the one you said was coming? What is it?"

"Open it and find out." Steve said, grinning in anticipation.

Christy tore off the wrapping in a hurry…only to find a beautiful, gauzy blue dress underneath.

"You got me the dress? You got me the dress?!" She spun around and tackled Steve in a hug. "I love you! You're the best Dad ever!"

"Hey, and what am I?" Tony muttered. "I helped him find it! This is as close to the movie version as you're gonna get without having the real thing, kid."

Tony slightly (but not really) regretted his words as he was overtaken by a heap of now ten year old.

"Thanks, Uncle Tony!"

"Arg! Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever…ow."

"Go put it on." Steve encouraged.

Christy dashed off to the bathroom, the dress streaming out behind her like a banner.

"Well that went well…" Sam said, a smile crossing his face.

After a few minutes, Steve called towards the bathroom, "Need any help?"

"Not from you!" Christy shouted back. "No boys allowed!"

The four 'boys' snickered.

Finally, Christy came back out, clearly making an effort to walk gracefully. The shimmering blue dress billowed around her like a cloud.

"We did good…" Tony muttered to Steve.

Steve was speechless.

 _There is no way that's my little girl…when did she get so_ _ **big**_ _?_

"And _that_ is adorable." Sam added.

Bucky nodded vigorously. "Hey, where's Christy? Who's this beautiful princess?" he called out. "She sure is gorgeous."

Christy grinned shyly and ducked her head. "I'm right here, Uncle Bucky."

Bucky slapped his hand to his head in mock surprise. "Aw, y'know, I didn't even recognize ya, you looked so fine."

"And you didn't even ask about part two." Steve said quietly.

"There's a part two?!"

Steve held out a pair of flat, translucent shoes; made out of soft plastic. "Glass slippers. Sorta. Figured they'd be more comfortable than actual glass…"

Christy grabbed the shoes and slipped them on. "They shine like glass. Thank you, Daddy."

"And now…" Steve stood up. "I regret that I have not exactly…gotten spiffed up, but…" He bowed formally. "May I have this dance?"

Once more, father and daughter spun in circles around the room, like no one else in the world existed.

And Steve knew that he wouldn't trade anything for this moment.

 _Keep your money, keep your fame, keep everything else…and I'll dance with Cinderella._

Maybe he couldn't stop the clock and keep his little girl from growing up. But he would snatch every moment while he still had her here, in his arms.

* * *

 **The song that was in my head while writing this chapter is "Cinderella" by Steven Curtis Chapman. If you haven't heard it, go look it up, it's a really sweet song. It was also the inspiration for the last bit.**

 **"Suka" means...something not very complementary in Russian. I'll leave you to decipher that one on your own...**

 **Next update...don't ask. Maybe later this week, maybe not. Just keep your eye out, and I'll post as soon as I'm done. Hope you enjoyed!**


	7. 96 Going On 30

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Apologies for the long (by my standards) absence, and welcome to the last of the pre-AoU oneshots. I know this is two birthday chapters in a row, but I've had this idea for a while and I wanted to write it now rather than later.**

 **Back when I was writing "Never Meant..." I mentioned Bucky's birthday as being April 12, which was a random date I picked, since I couldn't find an actual date from either the comics or the movies online. Since then, I've seen March 10 listed in some fics but nowhere official, so I'm sticking with the April date. (And considering the huge deviations already present in my 'Verse...).**

 **Anyway, as always, reviews are appreciated and please enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Seven: 96 Going On 30

"I really don't see how this is that big of a deal." Sam said. He and Steve were up on the Tower's rooftop, since Steve had mentioned wanting to talk in private about something.

Steve shot his friend a glare that was half mocking and half serious as he threw out his hands nervously. "You _really_ don't see how this is a big deal?! At all? In _any_ sense…"

Sam gave a huffing sigh. "Dude, just _ask_ him what he wants for his birthday. Does he even _know_ it's his birthday soon?"

"I…I don't know. I think it came up once or twice, but…" Steve shook his head. "Maybe not. Maybe that's the first thing."

"I would think so." Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Look, man, you two talk. Figure something out. I'll make sure Tony doesn't try something insane, 'cause we all know big and flashy is what he does for people he actually cares about. But in this case…"

Steve nodded. "Yeah…somehow I don't think 'big and flashy' is what he'll want."

"No doubts on that one. But seriously _go talk to him_! What's the worst that could happen?"

Usually, that question never produced anything that ended well. But Steve sighed and nodded.

For once (meaning, _like always_ ) Sam was right.

* * *

"What day _is_ it?" Bucky asked slowly, trying to push away the annoyance as his brain scrabbled to produce the pertinent information.

Steve had found him sitting on their floor's couch, and had broached the subject of his birthday.

He'd known what a birthday was, even before his memories had started to return.

 _A celebration of an individual's day of birth…_

But the fact that he _had_ a birthday…or what that day _was_ …forget it. Literally.

And _that_ was annoying.

Over half a year had passed since D.C., and he had progressed enough to know that he _hated_ not knowing things. Especially things that, apparently, people were _supposed_ to know!

Like the day they were born…

Steve sighed. "I think I said it before, as part of calming you down one night…"

By that, Steve meant the litany of things he would drawl out to cement Bucky back into reality, whenever he would wake up from a nightmare. Things like _It's Steve, it's okay, you're in Avenger's Tower, your name is James Buchanan Barnes…_

Bucky suddenly frowned. "A…April." he whispered. "A-april…12…1917. One year, four months…before you."

Steve's eyes grew wide. "How did you remember?"

"You told me." Bucky replied, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. "I don't know when, but you told me. So I remembered it."

"Since when do you remember everything I tell you?"

"Since…" The right side of Bucky's lips tugged up. "Since I was able to remember stuff. I didn't know anything, but you did. So I made sure to remember what you told me. I didn't want to forget again."

Steve nodded. "Well, your birthday's in a week, like I said. So…what would you like to do?"

Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face. "I…I dunno. What did we do before?"

Steve shrugged. "Cake, if we could. You liked chocolate, but you'd honestly eat anything with sugar. Including _just_ sugar." He sighed nostalgically. "Your ma made the best chocolate cake in the whole of Brooklyn. Even _my_ ma said so."

Bucky's lips curled in a frustrated grimace. "I wish I could remember my family better."

"It'd be a lot easier with pictures." Steve said quietly, an idea forming in his mind. "Too bad I don't have that many."

Bucky nodded. "What…what else?"

"Gifts… well, gifts depended on money. Once, I saved up enough to treat you to a movie _and_ popcorn _and_ soda." Steve grinned. "Sounds pathetic now, but I was so proud. This was when we were kids."

"I usually paid…" Bucky muttered, trailing off. "I…I think my family had more money than yours."

"Definitely. But yeah…you liked records; baseball cards when we were young…"

"New clothes…" Bucky murmured. He had a faint memory of a crisp dress shirt being pulled out of a box.

"You always were dapper." Steve said, smirking.

Bucky attempted to flip his hair over his shoulder. It ended up lightly smacking him in the face. Both men burst out laughing.

"I don't know what I want." Bucky said finally. "I don't…I think I got all my presents early."

Steve bit his lip to keep from saying that things like freedom, memories, and _not being a living gun_ weren't exactly presents.

Instead, he gave a tight smile. "Well…think about it, okay? Tell me if you come up with something."

Bucky _hmmed_ softly and finally said, "Cake sounds good…"

Steve snorted. "You sound like Christy."

Bucky drew himself up. "I take _that_ for a compliment."

"Punk."

"Jerk."

Steve sighed as Bucky leaned over on to him.

"It's been almost a year." Bucky whispered.

"Did you ever think…?"

Bucky shook his head immediately. "No. I didn't." His lips curved in a blackly comic smirk. "Literally."

Steve groaned. "How you manage to joke…"

"Hey, it's either joke or cry, pal. And I don't fancy runnin' around like a smashed-open fire hydrant all the time." He sighed. "It's really a lot better, Stevie. Honest, I swear!"

Steve nodded. "I know it's better. Bruce was right about earliest memories coming back first. I just wish…"

"There's gaps that won't fill." Bucky sighed again. "And I want them filled!"

"Believe me, I know!" Steve cried. "I wish I could fill them! But there's some things I just…don't know. I can't know, because I wasn't you. I'm not you."

Bucky smirked. "Be glad of that. You've got enough trouble being Steve Rogers _and_ Captain America. 'Cause there is a difference—I know."

"Yeah…one's a near-immortal hero, the other's a man. Only human."

"A pretty great human, if I do say so myself."

Steve's lips quirked up a bit. "Alright…if you say so."

"I _do_ say so, you self-sacrificing punk!"

As the serious conversation turned into banter (blessedly familiar banter), Steve relaxed.

 _Maybe this will turn out okay after all…at least now I've got a plan…_

* * *

"So…" Tony said, nearly accosting Sam on the Common Floor a couple nights later. "A little bird told me that the Terminator's birthday is coming up soon. Like, a few days soon."

Clint, who was at the table engaged in some complicated card game with Natasha, laughed. "Would this little bird happen to be blond and about five feet tall?"

Tony smirked over at him. "Possibly." He turned back to Sam. "So, what do you know?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I know he doesn't want a huge bash."

Tony snapped his fingers. "Darn. And I had such beautiful plans."

"Kiss your plans goodbye, Tony, unless they involve something decently quiet—like all of us on the Common Floor with cake." Natasha chimed in.

Tony started to look annoyed. "Look, do you guys think I'm completely devoid of a brain? I'm actually trying to do something nice here!"

Sam shook his head. "Tony, I know you mean well, and I know you always try to go all out for the people you like…"

"How do you know that? They teach you how to psychoanalyze people in shrink school? What am I thinking right now?"

Sam gave a very exasperated sigh. " _Counselor_ does not equal _mind reader_ , Stark. And nobody has to be a genius to watch and observe people around them."

Tony pursed his lips. "Fair. You were saying?"

"Just don't…I dunno, invite half of New York or something. But if you've got some ideas, I'm all ears. It's his first real birthday in seventy years—we oughta do _something_ good."

"My point exactly! So, I was thinking…"

"How old is he, anyway?" Clint interrupted. "Sorry, but…it's a little weird. It's weird enough with Steve, 'cause he's technically younger than me…"

"And so's Bucky." Sam said. "We gamed it out, the three of us. He was born in 1917, and fell off the train in 1944, before his birthday. That's 27 years. Add in all the erratic freeze-n-thaws, and you've probably got about one-to-two years of aging. Physically, he might actually be younger than Steve, but he wasn't too thrilled with that idea, so we guestimated and said he's turning 30."

Natasha shook her head. "That still means I'm older than him…I think."

Sam gave her a look. "You _think_?"

"That's what my file says, but that thing is slightly inaccurate…"

Sam shook his head. "I'm so done with you people…"

Tony cleared his throat loudly. " _Anyway_ , as I was saying…we need to plan something good. If he won't take a party, then he'd better take gifts. And I've got a few good ideas…"

* * *

"Bucky? Buck, wake up! C'mon, it's your birthday!"

Bucky rolled over and blearily opened his eyes to see Steve standing over him, grinning like an idiot.

"Go 'way…'m tired…" he slurred. "I slep' goo'…"

Steve laughed. "Well, I'm glad for that, but you've gotta get up, pal. You've got presents!"

 _Presents…_

Suddenly, recollection slammed into Bucky's head like a freight train.

 _My birthday! My first, for…a long time._ _ **My**_ _day…_

He sat up in bed and stretched loudly. He was sure he looked a mess as he blinked at Steve, who was somehow still grinning.

"Good morning, sunshine. I see you're still not a morning person."

Bucky groaned and rolled out of bed. "Nobody could get up at the ungodly hours you do without compulsion…"

Steve snorted. "You sound like Clint."

"I knew I liked him for a reason…" Bucky said, as he started pulling on clothes.

"You want coffee?" Steve asked. Bucky nodded. Having pulled on sweatpants and a shirt, he started for the door of his bedroom.

As they stepped out into the living area, he was suddenly accosted by a bundle of energetic ten-year-old.

"Happy Birthday, Uncle Bucky!"

Bucky smiled as Christy threw her arms around his waist. The kid gave really good hugs; so good, they ought to have been patented.

"Thanks, kid." he mumbled.

Sam appeared in front of him with a giant, steaming mug of coffee. "Happy Birthday, man. Need some wake-up juice?"

Bucky nodded and fell dramatically back onto the couch, dragging Christy with him. "Thanks." He took the mug from Sam and took a long, dramatic swallow. "Ahh!"

Christy giggled. Steve and Sam rolled their eyes.

"How you drink it so sweet, I'll never know." Sam said. "I feel like you're gonna die of a sugar overdose every time you down that stuff!"

Bucky gave a cocky grin. "It's gonna take more than sugar to kill me, Wilson. What's that?" he added, as Steve sat next to him on the couch with a package in his hands.

"Your birthday present, jerk, what else?" the blond said, grinning. "Well, one of them, anyway. Think this one's from Tony. It showed up on our doorstep this morning mysteriously."

Bucky stared at the package. He'd known that birthdays meant presents, but…

"For me?" he whispered, shyness and self-loathing rearing their collective ugly heads. "But why?"

"Because they _like_ you!" Sam said firmly. "We all do. And don't you dare start with that 'but I did terrible things' business. Nobody here holds anything against you, now be a good birthday boy and open your gifts!"

Smirking a little, Bucky gave a tiny salute. "Sir, yes sir."

He took the package from Steve and tore off the paper slowly. It was a very big box, in typical Tony fashion. And inside it…

Inside was a Captain America ball cap, t-shirt, hoodie, and even _socks_.

Steve groaned theatrically.

"I like it." Bucky said, in truth, and also because he enjoyed the way Steve's face was turning bright red.

Also inside was a _StarkPad_ , with a sticky note attached to the front.

 _Heeey, Buckster! Happy 97_ _th_ _birthday…or whatever. The tablet has a bunch of movies and music—from your time, now, and all the times in between. Enjoy!_

 _~Yours Truly, Tony Stark._

Bucky smiled and brushed his hand over the tablet lightly.

Steve took out two smaller package, and two cards. He handed a card to Bucky. "Pretty sure this one's from Thor."

The card had a picture of a golden retriever puppy on the front that made Bucky think of the card's giver immediately.

On the inside, Thor had written:

 _James,_

 _I wish you the happiest of days, on this, the anniversary of your birth. May you have many more in peace and freedom._

 _Your Friend,_

 _Thor Odinson_

The first package was from Clint. It was flat and square, and contained four different music records—Bing Crosby, Ella Fitzgerald, Glenn Miller, and Tommy Dorsey.

 _I know Steve's got a record player,_ the note read. _Just a little reminder that not everything about the past needs to stay in the past. Happy Birthday._

The last card was from Bruce, and contained four baseball tickets to go see the Mets play.

 _Sorry they moved the Dodgers on you…hope you don't hate the Mets too much. Happy Birthday._

Bucky smiled. "We…we hated the Yankees worse, right Steve?"

Steve grinned back. "Yup. Da… _darn_ Yankees."

"Language!" Christy chorused.

The last item was a small, square package. Bucky opened it up curiously.

"It's…look." He muttered, holding it up to the light. It was a black coffee mug that looked to have been smashed and repaired, the cracks filled in with gold.

 _I know you must have a coffee mug, but this one is different. For starters, it's all yours. Second, the cracks mean something. It's a Japanese art thing called kintsugi. When they break pottery, they repair the broken parts with gold because, as a little girl once told me, something's more beautiful when it's been broken. Your scars are your greatest honor, don't be fearful to let them show._

 _~Natasha_

Bucky stared at the note a long time, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes.

 _Damn you, Nat! Gonna make me cry over a stupid coffee mug!_

"So…I'm guessin' the 'little girl' was you?" he asked, roughing Christy's hair.

Christy nodded. "I got her a necklace like that my first Christmas here. And Uncle Tony has a bowl like that from Aunt Pepper." She shrugged. "I guess it's an Avenger's thing."

In one fluid motion, Bucky dumped his remaining coffee into the new mug.

"Yeah…" he whispered. "Guess it's an Avenger's thing."

Steve grinned. "Now it's my turn."

" _Our_ turn." Sam said. "We collaborated. And Tony and Coulson helped some, too, 'cause finding seventy, eighty, and ninety year old… _things_ …is kinda rough."

Bucky looked curious. "What things?"

"Thing things." Steve replied unhelpfully. He got up and went into his room. Christy also mysteriously disappeared.

Bucky gave Sam a look. Sam gave him an exaggerated shrug. "Don't look at me. I ain't tellin'."

The two soon returned: Christy with her laptop and Steve with two boxes.

"These…" Steve said. "Are for you. All for you."

Slowly, Bucky opened up one of the boxes. It was full of pictures. He grabbed one and almost gasped in shock.

It was a picture of him: young, handsome and smirking. He was leaning back against the edge of a rickety metal ladder on a fire escape.

"That was outside your family's apartment." Steve said quietly. "Your sister Becca was a photo nut, and she'd finally gotten a camera for Christmas…"

"…And she tried it out on me…" The wheels started turning in Bucky's head. There was the memory, faint and wispy…

 _"_ _Stand against the ladder, Bucky! Can't you smile for real? Please?"_

He started to grab another photo, before realizing that the pictures were divided up into bunches, and appeared to be categorized.

"This bunch is of your family." Steve said, tapping a section.

Slowly, Bucky reached in and pulled out another picture.

It was old and slightly faded, but it clearly showed a man, a woman, three girls, and a boy, all dressed to the nines for a family picture.

"Ma…Dad…" Bucky whispered, tracing the images. "Becca, Kate, Annie…and me. My family. I…I know them. I _know_ them!"

Steve nodded, blinking very fast. "Yeah you do, pal. And they're all yours to keep."

Bucky slowly worked his way through about half the box, before shaking his head. "I'll do the rest later. This…this is insane." He looked between Steve and Sam. " _Thank you_." He said firmly. "Thank you so much."

Christy squirmed excitedly. "My turn!"

Bucky rolled his eyes in mock horror. "Ah, no, what kind 'a sucker punch ta th' heart did ya get me, kid?"

Christy shook her head. "It's not that much of a sucker punch." She clicked a few things on her laptop and pulled up a video.

 _"_ _Okay, kid, ready?"_ Came Natasha's voice in the video's background.

 _"_ _Ready."_ Video-Christy took a deep breath. _"Happy Birthday, Uncle Bucky. This is for you."_ Another deep breath. And then she began.

 _"_ _Go-olden slum-bers, kiss your eyes_

 _Smi-les a-wait you when you rise_

 _Sleep pretty ba-by, do-o not cry,_

 _And I, will sing a lullaby…_

 _Cares you know not, therefore sleep_

 _While I watch o'er you, do not weep_

 _Sleep pretty ba-by, do-o not cry_

 _And I, will sing a lullaby…"_

The video clicked off. Christy was staring down at her hands. "You…you sang that to me, when I got sick. I remember. And you told me later that Dad's mom used to sing it, and your mom, too, so…" She shrugged. "I couldn't think of anything else. And I thought maybe…"

Bucky reached over and tugged Christy against his chest. "Thank you, doll. It was perfect."

It was more than perfect. It was a monument to the innocence he'd lost, and the innocence he maybe had a chance at getting back.

"So…" Steve leaned over. "Good so far?"

Shaking his head, still almost giddy with everything, Bucky said, "Yeah…really good."

* * *

Tony's idea of a 'low-key' party included ordering a bunch of Nathan's Famous hotdogs (with all the appropriate condiments), sodas, chips, and what looked like all the chocolate cake in New York. It was a warm enough day, so they were all up on the roof.

"How in the world are we going to eat all this?" Sam muttered to Clint.

Clint gestured over to where Steve stood talking with Thor. "There's two of your answers. The other's the guest of honor."

Said guest of honor stood near the edge of the roof, hotdog in hand, gazing out over the city.

"It got big, huh?" Came Natasha's voice behind him.

Bucky turned a bit to face her. "It was always big. Now it's…brighter. Lights everywhere."

"Did you like the gift?"

Bucky nodded. "It was good. More than good…" he sighed. "I have so much to be grateful for…and all I can say is 'thank you'? It doesn't seem like enough!" He gestured out with his hand. "I got everything back, my life, everything…it just doesn't seem like enough."

Natasha sighed. "It never does. I still have to pinch myself occasionally. Granted, life's not always exactly a dreamland, but…"

"But it is." Bucky finished. "It is."

"So make it count." Natasha gave him a friendly shoulder-punch. "From one ex-assassin to another; make it count."

"I propose a toast!" Tony bawled out suddenly, grabbing a beer bottle and hoisting it high.

"That's my job, Stark!" Steve protested, snatching the bottle away and re-hoisting it. "'Sides, you always do the toasts at these things. To James Buchanan Barnes! The best friend a guy could have and the best sniper this world's ever seen!"

Bucky couldn't help ducking his head a little, but he smiled just the same.

"To Bucky!" everyone echoed, downing a sip of whatever liquid was at their disposal.

"To the best uncle ever!" Christy called out.

"What about me?" Tony and Clint echoed almost at once.

Bucky swooped over and grabbed Christy by the shoulders playfully. "Sorry boys, but the lady's taken!"

And as everything dissolved into a happy mess of laughter and snarking, Bucky filed Natasha's words away for safekeeping

 _'_ _From one ex-assassin to another; make it count.' I'm gonna make it count._

 _After all, it's not every day you get a second chance._

* * *

 **Anyone who finds the idea of Bucky singing "Golden Slumbers" to Christy incredibly cute should check out chapter 10 of "Never Meant..."  
**

 **As I said, next one-shot starts the Age of Ultron period...get ready!**

 **Also, I'm thinking about getting into a (semi) regular posting schedule... what day/time do you or others you know check/read fanfiction?**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	8. Into the Storm

**Author's Note: So, here it is, the first of my 'during' AoU oneshots. Consequently, this chapter has a lot of direct quotes from the movie. I tried not to just quote everything word for word, but there is a fair bit of that towards the end. If that bugs anyone, I'm sincerely sorry. I don't have direct quotes marked, but if you're really curious, you can go to IMDB and figure it out.**

 **Thanks for all the feedback on last chapter. I'm so glad people are appreciating these tales.**

* * *

Chapter Eight: Into the Storm

"So…when's Dad getting back?"

Christy was attempting to sound nonchalant—and doing a pretty good job, too.

But Sam wasn't fooled. "I told you, Christy, he'll be back possibly by this afternoon. By tonight at the latest. You still have to go to school."

Christy slumped down and stared into her bowl of cereal. "But what if I miss him coming back? It's not like we're doing anything _important_ …"

That phrase was more and more becoming a part of Christy's vocabulary; so much so, that Sam was seriously considering talking with Steve about just having Christy do online home school. Surely she could learn just fine on her own! And between the Tower's eight (give or take a few) permanent residents, it wasn't like she'd be lacking assistance.

As for socialization, it wasn't like there weren't clubs or sports teams. Maybe they could sign her up for a drama club…

He smirked as Christy shoveled a spoonful of Corn Pops into her mouth mournfully and chewed with exaggerated motions.

 _Yeah,_ _ **definitely**_ _a drama club…_

But for now, she was still enrolled in the nearest public school; albeit in gifted classes. And she still had to go, every weekday.

He patted her shoulder. "C'mon. I know, it's not the most fun place in the world. But we gotta do what we gotta do. Eat up, you've got fifteen minutes before we need to leave. And at least it's May. You got about one month left to go before summer break."

Christy sighed. "O _kay_."

"Try to find one thing to tell me about when you get home. That's your mission for the day." Sam knew he was pulling the right move when he saw Christy smile a bit. "Yup, that's your mission. Think you can handle it?"

Christy sat up straight and gave a sloppy, but decently imitated salute. "Yes, sir!"

Sam grinned. These were the moments that made being a 'back-up dad' (as Christy had termed him) gloriously worth it.

"Good. Now finish up and go brush your teeth. Traffic's always murder in the mornings…"

* * *

It was around four o'clock in the afternoon when Bucky's phone started vibrating heavily. He snatched it off the coffee table in front of the couch and read the text message that had come through.

It was from Maria Hill, and it read: _Incoming. Get up to the landing pad. Barton's hurt, everyone else is fine._

Heavy relief thumped through Bucky's heart—Steve was okay. He was a little concerned about Clint, but the message just said _hurt_ , not _in imminent danger of death_ …

"Sam! Christy! They're back, c'mon!" he called out.

Sam came out his room quickly enough, but Christy shot out like a blond blur. Clearly, greeting her dad upon his return was a lot more exciting than the math homework she'd been doing.

Christy flung herself at the elevator and almost slammed the open/close button. She rushed in as soon as the door opened, spinning around only to give Bucky and Sam a confused look.

"Well _c'mon_ , what are you waiting for?"

"Forgive us for not being human tornadoes." Sam muttered. Bucky smirked and the two men got on the elevator up to the floor that contained both Tony's lab and the landing pad for the Quinjet.

The elevator pinged open to a scene of controlled chaos. Dr. Helen Cho—a South Korean geneticist who had been working with Tony and Bruce lately— and several aids were hurrying about a cot in the "medical area" of the lab, checking IVs and booting up a machine.

Christy, never one to calmly evaluate a situation while under high emotion, started to lurch forward, but Bucky caught her just in time.

"It's Clint." he said calmly, for Sam's sake as well as the kid's. "He got hurt. Everyone else is fine."

Sam snorted a bit, though he cast a worried eye into the medical room. He and Clint had formed a special bond—mostly centered around their joke-status as the 'only sane men' in Avengers Tower. (How much of a joke that status was really depended on the moment, though…)

"It's all right." Natasha echoed, spotting the three and hurrying over. "Steve and Tony are still on the plane with Maria. They're coming. Thor and Bruce went up to their floors, but Bruce should be back soon." She gave Christy a leveled look. "We're okay, kid. How was school today?"

Christy frowned. She didn't exactly like that question. "I learned some more about the Cold War in history…I think I like hot wars better."

Natasha laughed. "You would."

"What happened to Clint?" Bucky asked.

Natasha sighed. "We took the base, and actually got back the Staff…"

"That's fantastic!" Sam cried. "It's been like, what, four years?"

"Almost. The tricky part was, we ran into two…enhanced, they call them. Humans with special powers, victims of experimentation."

Bucky's face turned dark, as it always did at the mention of HYDRA's abuses. "And what then?"

"Well, I don't think they liked us very much…"

"Did they hurt Uncle Clint?" Christy asked.

"No, but one of them distracted him so he didn't notice the sniper that did. But he'll be fine. Dr. Cho has that new regeneration tech…repairs skin or something like that…"

"So where's my girl?" came a loud, slightly weary voice. Christy knew it immediately.

"Dad!" she shrieked, spinning around and barreling into none other than Steve Rogers.

Steve laughed quietly as he gave Christy a hug. "Hey, baby. You have a good time with Sam and Bucky?"

"Uh-huh. But I'm glad you're back. Aunt Tasha said you found the mindstone, does that mean you can take a break for a while?"

Steve met Sam and Bucky's eyes over-top of his daughter's head. There was no good way to answer that question…

Bucky came over and threw his arm around Steve's shoulders. "What, no love for me, punk?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Jerk." he muttered fondly. His eyes roamed over to Sam. "Hey…thanks for everything."

Sam nodded. He knew that it was incredibly hard for Steve to be away at long stretches from probably the two most important people in his life. "No sweat. Glad you're back in one piece." He frowned a bit. "Natasha said you ran into a couple 'a enhanced…"

Steve shook his head. "Fill you in later. Right now, I swear all I want to do is change and crash…"

Sam grinned and gestured towards the elevator. "Crash zone this way."

"Can I stay down here with Uncle Clint?" Christy asked.

All three men looked more than a little shocked. Usually it would take an industrial-strength crowbar to pry Christy off of Steve when he returned back from missions.

"I guess…" Steve replied. At that moment, Bruce came back into the lab. "Hey, Bruce, it okay if Christy stays down here? She won't get in the way?"

Bruce blinked. "Yeah, sure. She knows how to keep out of the way."

"Alright." Steve pressed Christy against him in an embrace. "Be good, okay? Let the doctor do her job."

Christy nodded, a small amount of solemnness creeping into her face. "I know." As Steve, Sam, and Bucky got on the elevator, she slowly creeped over to where Clint lay on a medical bed, careful to avoid Dr. Cho and her assistants.

"Uncle Clint?" she hissed, as soon as she was around to his head. "Are you okay?"

Clint blinked and frowned; his eyes clenched shut in pain before coming open all the way. "C'isty?" he slurred. "M'all righ', kid…p'omise."

Clint definitely didn't _sound_ fine, but Christy nodded anyway and cleared a seat on a semi-empty lab table, to watch the proceedings. Natasha came over and squeezed her shoulder.

"How's he doing?" Bruce asked, as Tony came down a small set of stairs.

"Unfortunately, he's still Barton." Tony quipped. Christy giggled.

"That's terrible…" Bruce muttered in that deadpan way of his.

"He's fine—he's thirsty." Tony clarified, before turning his attention to the Staff.

"You sure he's gonna be okay?" Natasha asked, turning to Dr. Cho.

It wasn't that she didn't trust the woman…not exactly, anyway. She trusted her to know her stuff. But with the life of her best friend on the line, she was feeling slightly paranoid.

"The guy underneath this scar really brings the team together." she added, with attempted breeziness. It wasn't exactly a good sell.

Christy nodded and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'only sane man'. Natasha smirked.

"There's no possibility of deterioration." Dr. Cho said firmly, as Bruce entered the room. "The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous. His cells don't know they're mending themselves."

"She's creating tissue." Bruce said enthusiastically, for the benefit of the non-science people in the room.

"If you brought him to my lab, the regeneration cradle could do this in…twenty minutes." Dr. Cho added.

Christy looked mildly interested in something other than Clint's progress. "What's a regeneration cradle?"

Dr. Cho started as she became fully aware of Christy for the first time. She shot Bruce a look.

"That's Christy, aka America's Secret Angel." Bruce replied. "Captain America's kid. She's all right to be here."

Dr. Cho nodded, though she kept a curious gaze on Christy. After all, according to official news, Captain America didn't have any kind of a family. "It's a large metal device, almost like a coffin in shape. It creates new tissue at a much faster pace."

Christy looked a bit thrown off at the mention of a coffin, but nodded back. "Oh, okay."

"Oh, he's flat lining." Tony said, coming into the room with Starbucks. "Call it. Time?"

"Nah, nah, I'm gonna live forever!" Clint said, tossing Christy and Natasha (who were still looking worried) a cocky grin and accepting the drink from Tony. "I'll be made of plastic!"

"You'll be made of you, Mr. Barton." Dr. Cho corrected, smiling. "Your own girlfriend won't be able to recognize you."

"I don' have a girlfriend…" Clint slurred, trying to focus on the drink and not Natasha, who was surely grinning at that.

 _There are days when this whole façade gets really old…_

He was beginning to think that someday soon, he would have to give up the ghost and come clean. But not today.

"Well, that I can't fix..." Dr. Cho replied. " _This_ is the future, Tony." she continued. "Soon, your clunky metal suits will be left in the dust!"

Christy gave a rather sharp look to the geneticist, upon hearing that. _Nobody_ messed around with her 'family' outside of 'family.'

"Yes, well, that is exactly the plan." Tony replied. "And Helen, I expect to see you at the party on Saturday."

"Unlike you, I don't have a lot of time for parties…" Clint hissed " _burn!_ " under his breath, even as Christy frowned harder. She liked Uncle Tony. His suits weren't clunky, they were sleek and beautiful. And he did a lot more than party.

"Will Thor be there?" Dr. Cho added, in a quick undertone.

Christy smirked, recognizing that tone, satisfied that the geneticist was as human as the rest of 'her' grown-ups. Natasha grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the lab. "C'mon, kid, let's let the scientists have their Candyland and go find your dad."

* * *

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?" Steve asked for the umpteenth time as he ran a brush through his hair in the bathroom.

Tonight was the big bash, and they were all going; even Christy. While Tony had sworn up and down that he was keeping the guest list down to people they actually knew, he was still a tad nervous.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he adjusted his shirt collar in the mirror. (There were only three bathrooms on the floor, so they shared one). "You're the parent. But you said she'd been to Stark parties before. And her friend's here."

Steve sighed and nodded. Christy had asked if her friend Tally's family was invited to the "victory party," since Tally's dad worked for what was left of SHIELD. He'd thought it was a fantastic idea, mostly because he knew what went down at Tony's (in)famous parties. It would be nice for Christy to have someone her age at the event.

"Yeah…it'll be okay. You're right. Everything will be fine."

Bucky snorted. "I know I'm right. Give your kid some credit, Steve—she's seen a lot."

"I know!" Steve cried, flinging the brush through his hair with one last stroke. "And if I could have my way, she wouldn't see anything more! But, unfortunately…that's not the world we live in."

"Hey." Bucky grabbed his shoulder. "Tonight's for us; the heroes. No maudlin. We're gonna celebrate. What's the worst that could happen?"

Steve smirked. "Tony could come in drunk in an Iron Man suit."

Bucky frowned. "Did he do that? He did that! What…oh, why am I not surprised." He slung his arm around Steve's shoulders. "C'mon dancing boy; let's collect our feathered friend and mini-you. Party's almost started."

Now it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes. "I may have been on a USO tour, but I never _danced_."

"Sure, sure…"

* * *

"But it's a trick!" Clint cried, spinning a drumstick he'd gotten from God-knew-where. All the guests had left and now it was just the core Avengers plus a few extra, sitting around too keyed up to think of sleeping.

Thor laughed. "No, no; it's much more than that."

Steve rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his drink and glanced down at Christy, sprawled across his chest and half asleep. "You should be in bed." he murmured.

Christy shook her head. "Can't sleep. I'm not tired."

Bucky snorted. "I'll bet; after you downed like five Cokes."

"Six…but I didn't finish the last one…"

Steve shook his head and glanced at his watch. It was 11:23. "You have until midnight. Then bed."

Meanwhile, Clint was still giving his unsolicited commentary on Mjolnir.

"Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the pow-ah! Whatever, man, it's a trick!"

Thor gestured towards his weapon. "Please, be my guest."

Clint looked shocked. Thor was rather possessive of his hammer. "Really?"

"Yes."

Everybody, even Christy, perked up at this. Mjolnir's legendary status was well-known in the Tower.

Clint failed to lift the hammer. So did Tony (even with his and Rhodey's combined efforts and tech). And Bruce, who finished with a fake-Hulk yell.

Then Steve stood up.

"If anyone can lift it, it's Dad." Christy whispered to Bucky. "Dad's the greatest!"

Bucky privately agreed.

"IT BUDGED! IT BUDGED, IT BUDGED, IT BUDGED! Didn't you see it? It budged!" Christy screamed.

"He didn't lift it the second time." Sam pointed out, as he helped subdue the flapping ten year old.

Steve shrugged. "Guess I'm not worthy." He sat down.

"You were pulling wrong the second time…" Bucky hissed into Steve's ear. Steve gave an exaggerated shrug. Bucky sighed in exasperation.

 _He's worthy. But now's maybe not the time. Even Thor looked shocked…_

Bruce gestured toward Natasha. "Widow?"

Natasha flipped her hair back and took a sip of her drink. "Oh, no, no, no; that's not a question I need answered."

"All deference to the man that _wouldn't_ be king, but it's rigged." Tony stated.

"You bet your ass." Clint said.

"Steve he said a bad language word." Maria said, just as Steve cried, "Clint, c'mon!"

"Sorry, kid." Clint tossed over his shoulder. "Don't use that one at school."

"I _hear_ it at school…" Christy mumbled.

"Did you tell everyone about that?" Steve asked Tony, but Tony wasn't paying attention.

"The handle's rigged, right, like a security code? 'Whosoever is carrying Thor's fingerprint' is, I think, the more literal translation."

"Yes, yes…" Thor said, standing up. "It's a very interesting theory. I have a simpler one."

Everyone looked up at him.

"You are all not worthy." He said, picking up Mjolnir and twirling it around.

Everyone groaned.

"Alright, bedtime for small children…" Steve started to say, when loud ringing sound suddenly broke through the camaraderie.

One of Tony's mechanical bots tottered toward them like a drunk man.

"No…how could you be worthy…you're all killers."

Steve shoved Christy behind him so fast, he barely thought about the action. Sam nudged the girl.

"If this gets bad and you can't get up the stairs or elevator, get under the piano, understand?"

Christy nodded, her eyes wide and terrified. "Wh-what is that thing?"

"Stark…" Steve said almost accusingly.

"Jarvis…" Tony said immediately.

"Sorry I'm late, I was…asleep. Or…I was a dream…" the thing muttered.

"Reboot; we got a buggy suit…" Tony murmured, tapping on his StarkPad.

"There was a terrible noise...and I was tangled in...in...strings. I had to kill the other guy...he was a good guy."

"You killed someone?" Steve asked, keeping a firm grip on Christy.

"Wouldn't have been my first call." The machine said. It (he?) sounded like he meant it. "But, down in the real world we're faced with ugly choices."

Bucky growled a bit. "He talks like HYDRA…"

"Who sent you?" Thor asked.

The bot suddenly replayed a recording of Tony. "'I see a suit of armor around the world.'"

Everyone stared at Tony in shock.

"Ultron!" Bruce cried, looking horrified.

"In the flesh." 'Ultron' replied. "Or, no, not yet. Not this...chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission."

As they kept up a back and forth with the bot, everyone started getting the feeling that something was very, very wrong. Weapons were grabbed. Guns were cocked.

"What mission?" Natasha hissed.

"Peace in our time."

"Christy, get up the…" Steve whispered. But it was too late. Chaos broke loose.

Bucky grabbed Christy just as Steve was flung backwards by an exploding blast. He handed her a pistol. "Tasha teach you to use this?"

Christy nodded, her eyes like giant blue saucers.

"Good." He grabbed her and Helen Cho, half shoving them towards the safety of the piano. "Stay there. Don't move." That taken care of, he readied himself for a fight.

The next few minutes looked like a war zone had erupted on the Common Floor. Shattered glass was spread everywhere.

A half-made bot hovered over to the piano, blaster ready. Christy held up the pistol.

"D-don't touch us." she hissed. "I-I can shoot…"

Ultron himself looked over. He saw the geneticist, and, running though his database of information, saw her potential use.

But the girl…

 _Name: Rogers, Crystal. Daughter to Steve Rogers, aka, Captain America…_

The girl caught his gaze and glared back. "Go…go away. You're just like HYDRA. And only crazy guys say 'peace in our time'."

"Hey…" Ultron muttered, before the bot was attacked from behind by Thor.

As the last bot was smashed everyone was left staring at Tony and Bruce's creation.

"Well that was dramatic. I'm sorry, I know you mean well…you just didn't think it through. You want to protect the world…but you don't want it to _change_. How is humanity _saved_ if it's not allowed to…evolve."

He picked up one of the lifeless bots. "What are these? _P_ _uppets_. There's only one path to peace…the Avengers' extinction."

Thor threw his hammer, and the robot smashed into pieces…but an ominous chuckle told everyone that their problem was far from over.

Steve turned, shaking, to Tony. "What. Did. You. Do?"

* * *

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked Christy, for what felt like the thousandth time.

Christy nodded, but her stiff movements and widened eyes told him she was lying.

Sam and Steve were down with everyone else, trying to figure out just what had happened. He'd elected to get the kid away from the chaos. Currently, they were sitting on the couch because there was no way Christy was getting to sleep anytime soon.

"It's okay…" he murmured, running his hand through her hair.

"No it's not." Christy said, looking a lot older than ten.

Bucky sighed. "No…it's not. This isn't good. But it will be, I swear, kid."

He meant every word. Christy knew he did.

But sometimes…good intentions weren't enough. Sometimes things went wrong, even when you tried your hardest. Sometimes bad guys showed up and blew your living room to smithereens.

 _Sometimes the good guys lose…_ A nasty voice whispered in her brain. She tried to shove it down.

 _Dad will be okay. Dad will be okay. Everyone will be okay._

But for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure she could make herself believe it.

* * *

 **The bit about "only crazy people say 'peace in our time'" is a gross simplification of my thoughts on that quote (Christy's not trying to think through her words). It was said by Neville Chamberlin (actually as 'peace _for_ our time'), prime minister of Great Britain prior to WWII, who failed to see the writing on the wall regarding Nazi Germany. The quote was said after the _Munich Agreement_ of 1938, which let Nazi Germany annex portions of Czechoslovakia, after which it was hoped Hitler would be satisfied. Long story short, he wasn't. So, to me, and to Christy (who's heard her fair share of WWII history), the quote signifies complete misunderstanding of a situation-something Ultron is fairly guilty of at this point, and Tony as well. When I saw AoU and Tony said that quote, I wanted to smack some sense into him!  
**

 **Next chapter should be up this coming week. It involves probably my favorite AoU plot point ever! What is it, you ask? Well...let's just say the cat is out of the bag for a certain archer...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	9. In the Mind's Eye

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I know I promised a chapter regarding everyone's favorite archer's biggest secret...and that's still coming, I swear! But this idea would not leave my brain! It's a lot shorter than most of the other chapters and also very different from my normal style. Very introspective...**

 **The Maximoff siblings are very fun characters to try to dissect, especially Wanda. This chapter came about because I was musing on the nature of each "vision" she showed each of the Avengers, and how they all seemed to center around either worst fears or worst regrets; or some combination of both. I also wondered what each Avengers' mind would 'look' like, and how Wanda would react to what she sees. Thus, this lovely little snippet was born.**

 **As always, feedback is forever appreciated. Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: Just as a head's up, Pietro DOES NOT DIE in this universe! Because in a world with things like T.A.H.I.T.I. and regeneration cradles, there is no excuse for him to be dead. And it suits the purposes of my story to have him alive. And...gosh darn it, he's an awesome character!**

* * *

Chapter Nine: In the Mind's Eye

Tony Stark, the man behind the name that spurred her on towards revenge…is much more fragile internally than the devil-may-care persona he presents to the world would suggest.

Wanda stretches out her hands and watches as the glowing red tendrils surround the man's head.

Suddenly, every secret of his soul is laid bare in her mind's eye.

What she 'sees' is surprising. The man does not think like a 'Merchant of Death'.

 _Protect…atone…make up…not enough…blood and fire, so much blood…Yinsen…Pepper…the team…_

It is the last she seizes upon.

 _Can't be alone…not again…alone in the dark…always alone…never enough…can't fail…_

Tony Stark is a genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. The Avengers' benefactor. A technical wizard. Snarky as all get-out.

Tony Stark is terrified of losing his team.

Worse, he's terrified that he will get everyone killed, with no one to blame but himself.

He is so terrified, that he is willing to do almost anything to protect them, protect the world.

For a moment, Wanda almost pities him. She knows loss.

Almost…but not quite.

She remembers the terror and grief that ripped her apart as she and Pietro lay huddled on the floor of their bombed-out apartment. She remembers her brother's desperate reassurances that all would be well, even as tears streamed down his face.

And she remembers the name printed on the dud explosive.

 _Stark…_

So Wanda uses her newfound knowledge to create the man's worst fear. He sees his team lying dead, victim of another alien attack.

He sees Captain America ( _Rogers…Know-it-all…trustworthy…maybeIlookuptohimkinda …hehastheworstdissapointedface…friend…)_ say that his best efforts have failed. That it is all his fault.

And Wanda knows that he will act exactly as she hoped.

At last, her parents' deaths will be avenged…

She pushes down the twinge of guilt that surfaces, the thought that her parents wouldn't consider this a fitting tribute…

 _Justice will be done…_

* * *

When the Avengers show up in Wakanda, Wanda is eager to test out her powers once again. They are proving a very useful weapon.

At first she sticks to slightly more conventional fighting methods, such as repelling and pushing back. But soon, Ultron comes beside her and whispers, "It's time for some mind games."

And she is more than ready to begin.

The tall, blond warrior is her first target. _Thor_ , she remembers. As before, the red tendrils float about him and he stands still as she worms her way into his innermost thoughts.

 _Unlike_ before, he is able to push her off for a moment, delaying her vision from 'appearing' before his eyes.

His mind is stronger than a normal human's, she realizes. He will not be so easy to manipulate.

But manipulate she will. For her powers are not exactly human, either.

She senses protectiveness once more, but also the pressures of being an heir. The guilt at leaving his home, to fight another world's battles.

The fear that he is still the impulsive boy that charged into battle, heedless of the consequences. That his power will lead to destruction.

 _We are all dead! Can you not see?_

 _You're a destroyer, Odinson…see where your power leads you…_

Thor stares at her in muted shock. And for a moment…Wanda almost feels ashamed. He has done no harm to her, after all. He is merely guilty by association.

Almost, but not quite.

* * *

Pietro helps her take down the Captain. 'God's Righteous Man,' Ultron called him. He winces as he collapses in a heap, jerking slightly as her red lightning flashes through him.

From Ultron's contemptive description, Wanda expects to find a self-righteous uber-patriot in his head.

What she finds is more complex than that.

There is patriotism, yes, but it is far from blind. There is honor and decency—things Wanda would normally scarce dare to name without sarcasm. Such things died along with her mother and father. But they are there, nonetheless, and she cannot deny them.

Curiously, though, there is a spot she cannot reach.

She pushes, but in her own mind's eye, she sees something strange.

A skinny blond man seems to cloud her 'vision', pushing back her mental intrusion. With a shock, she realizes that the figure and the Captain are one and the same.

 _Of course._ She thinks. They had heard the story a thousand times: Captain America, the genetically altered super-soldier, the perfect living weapon.

Of course, HYDRA had their Winter Soldier…though not anymore. No one knew where he had gone, in the chaos that had occurred since the fallout of SHIELD/HYDRA.

The skinny man stands in a belligerent pose, blocking her from seeing what lies in this mental pocket.

 _"_ _Not here!"_ He seems to scream. _"I won't let you! You can't have them!"_

Wanda can only see vague flashes.

 _"_ _Punk." "Jerk."_

 _"_ _Daddy, watch me!"_

 _"_ _Don't do anything stupid…"_

 _"_ _I love you…"_

 _"'_ _Til the end of the line…"_

It is not fear or regret that protects these images. Not an emotion she can work with.

It is love. Fierce, determined love.

Wanda knows this emotion; she knows it all too well. So she backs away.

But there are regrets in the Captain's mind...

 _"_ _I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance…"_

 _"_ _Don't you dare be late…"_

 _"_ _If only..."_

 _"_ _I had a date…"_

Wanda seizes onto the painful, raw regret, and twists it. He sees the welcome that should have been his, the woman that would have been his wife…

 _"_ _The war's over, Steve…we can go home…imagine it!"_

As she leaves him, still crashed on a pile of rubble, she again feels the guilt, stronger than before.

 _A warmongering American._ She tries to chide herself. _An enemy._

 _A good man…_ Whispers the part of herself that still believes there can be such people in the world.

 _A good man._

* * *

The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, Natalia Romanova…the woman's identities float through Wanda's mind, each bringing a host of memories.

It is painfully easy to warp these memories; there so much regret present that the spy's mind is practically singing with it.

Regret…and shame.

 _Red, red, dripping red, red in my ledger, can't wipe it out…never wipe it out…never belong…never loved…never to know love…_

Love…but that is present, too. Her love for the archer, the Captain; love like the kind she has for Pietro. Her love for Thor and yes, even Stark, a friendly sort of love.

And then, there is a love that is directed elsewhere, somewhere that is buried deep and protected, like in the Captain. So Wanda presses on.

And for a moment, the guilt is back. The woman's memories bear almost too sharp a resemblance to Wanda's own—it appears they both know the dark side of Soviet and ex-Soviet governments and institutions.

 _"_ _You'll break them…"_

 _"_ _Only the breakable ones…"_

 _We have both been broken._ Wanda thinks. _I was once an innocent child. Now, I am an angry shell…_

 _"_ _The ceremony is necessary…for you to take your place in the world."_

 _"_ _I have no place in the world…"_

"Know my pain…" Wanda mutters. _For I also have no place in the world. They have twisted us both, Black Widow. We will neither of us ever belong…_

The thought makes her feel sad and weary, so very weary. She almost wants to lie down and sleep, to stop fighting…to maybe find someone who will tell her different.

Almost…but not quite.

* * *

She peers around the corner of the balcony, where the archer is shooting off arrows that send shock waves throughout the building. He does not miss his targets.

Wondering what interesting secrets lie in his head, she lifts her hands in preparation…

But he is fast and quick, with honed reflexes and keen vision.

She reels back as a metal arrow presses itself to her forehead and shocks her into stillness and mild pain.

"Done the whole mind control thing before…not really a fan." She hears dimly.

Pietro appears and punches the man, sending him sprawling. He snatches the arrow from her head and scoops her up in his arms, as he has done so many times before. They leave the archer lying on the ground, wincing.

All she can process is pain. It makes her want to quit this madness.

But when her brother asks if she is alright, all she can say is, "I want to finish the plan…"

Pietro's face is so concerned, that she almost retracts the statement.

Almost, but not quite.

* * *

The monster (who doesn't really look like a monster…) is also shockingly easy to manipulate; but fascinating.

Fear and rage and regret and love all run through him like a multicolored banner.

 _Banner_. How fitting.

Like two sides of the same coin, the monster and man occupy different aspects of the same Bruce Banner.

The man is calm, collected, scientifically minded; passionate to learn and discover and help.

The monster is unchecked protective rage, who also desires to help.

Neither side is bad, she realizes. The monster's only problem is that it doesn't think. It acts.

So she grabs onto the fear and regret (regret for the lives taken, fear that he will take more, fear that he will be a liability to…)

Well, _this_ is interesting.

Wanda's lips quirk at the thought of what she sees. And yet, it is not without sense.

The man's emotions run high and deep. It only takes a small nudge to send him over the edge.

Soon, a roar of rage reverberates through the air.

And again, the conscience she thought was dulled for good elbows her heart. But it is not enough.

Not yet.

* * *

It is not until she realizes the true extent of Ultron's plan that it is enough. She frees the geneticist from the Staff's control. She and Pietro race out into the teeming city, desperate to perhaps stem some of the madness they helped create.

She prays to a God she doesn't quite believe exists to please, let them make up for their mistake.

No. _Her_ mistake.

Pietro will probably contest that point later, but he was not the one who invaded a place where no other living being has a right to be: a person's mind.

She induced Stark to make Ultron. She is the reason people are calling for Banner's arrest. She is the reason the Avengers are being bashed by every news station worldwide.

This is all her fault.

 _All I wanted was justice..._

No, she realizes, what she wanted was her parents back. But no amount of mind-warping will give her that wish.

So Wanda wonders if perhaps, just perhaps…

Perhaps they may have been wrong about the plan. About the Avengers. About everything.

But somehow…being wrong doesn't seem like such a terrible prospect.

* * *

 **Ah, Wanda...yeah, you've kinda been wrong on a lot of things...but it's about to get a lot better. And you'll soon learn what was in that protected area of Steve's mind. (Give you a hint: the two most important people in his life, in this universe, anyway!)  
**

 **Next update may or may not come this weekend. I have rather a lot planned... But it will come! In the meantime...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	10. Uncle Clint's What!

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! At long last (which lasted a little long...) the "Agent and Smaller Agents" are revealed! Clint's gonna have some explaining to do...**

 **There is a part two to this chapter, which will be next, and which covers the movie events at the Barton farm (with my own take on some things)**

 **Hope this does justice to what you all've been waiting for. Feedback is great and I hope you enjoy Chapter 10! :D**

* * *

Chapter Ten: "Uncle Clint's _What_?"

Sam looked down at the tiny scrap of paper in his hand. The nine-digit string of numbers bored itself into his brain.

 _Just call the stupid number, Wilson!_ _ **Clint**_ _gave it to you. What's the worst that could happen?_

The area code, which he'd googled out of curiosity, was for Hebron, New York; aka: scenic nowhere, Upstate New York. That seemed about right for a safe house, but still…

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was up.

Breathing out a shaky sigh, he slowly dialed the number into his phone.

* * *

Saturday had been the 'victory party', aka: 'the night Stark's peacekeeping robot turned into a megalomaniac psycho'.

Sunday and Monday, everyone had been researching, tracking news reports, and flipping through old paper files like madmen (since Ultron had erased pertinent digital files), trying to find any scrap of helpful information.

Tuesday, the Avengers had left for Wakanda.

Steve had made the decision not to send Christy to school until this whole affair was over. Ultron's 'invasion' of the Tower had shaken her up quite a lot; even more than she was maybe willing to admit.

At first, he'd though that sending her to school would help give her a sense of normalcy. But Sam had put the deathblow to that theory.

 _"_ _Sure it'll be normal."_ He'd replied. _"Too normal. And she's still freaked out, mark my words. A creepy robot just basically invaded the safest place she's ever known. And once you leave, she'll be worried, more than normal. If she goes to school and someone notices, they might start asking questions. She won't be able to pretend everything's okay, but she sure as hell can't say 'my dad's Captain America and I'm scared cause he's off fighting an evil robot.' So they might suspect something else."_

Steve and Bucky had both looked utterly clueless, so Sam had sighed. _"They might think there's abuse going on."_

Needless to say, Steve suddenly had very little desire to send Christy anywhere near a New York public school.

Sam had elected to remain behind with Christy again, and Bucky had as well.

 _"_ _You're fighting someone who has the power to mess with minds? Steve, I'd be the worst liability ever!"_

No matter how much Steve had tried to talk one or both of them out of it, they had both stood firm. Six Avengers was more than enough, and with all the insanity, the kid needed some sense of stability.

And then, something interesting occurred.

In a brief, stolen moment of quiet, Clint sidled over to Sam. "Look, I know you and Barnes are stayin' back with the kid, and she's out of school. Just some advice, but you might wanna get out of the city for a while."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Know any good safe houses?"

Clint nodded, his face perfectly straight, and handed him a slip of paper. "Call this number." At Sam's confused look, he added, "It's…some people I know. They'd put you up for however long it takes to deal with all this."

"Even Bucky?" Sam asked. It had to be said. Some people might be put off by the whole 'metal arm and slightly-frequent nightmares' thing.

"Even him." Clint grinned. "They've put up with worse. Namely me."

Sam tucked the slip into his jeans' pocket. "I'll think about it. Thanks."

* * *

Now, it was late afternoon on Wednesday. Christy's face was pinched in a bad combination of worry and boredom, and even Bucky and Sam were starting to feel stir-crazy.

"Call the number." Bucky finally said quietly. He was sitting on the couch with Christy, who had finally fallen asleep on his lap, after barely sleeping at all the night before. "We gotta get outta here."

Sam nodded and retrieved the slip of paper out of his room. As he studied the string of numbers, he tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that warned him something was up.

 _Since when do_ _ **safe houses**_ _have_ _ **phone numbers**_ _?!_

He shook his head and dialed the number. The ring tone sounded once, twice; and then…

It clicked. And a voice said, "Hi, this is the Barton house."

Sam felt as though someone had snatched all the oxygen out of his lungs.

The speaker was young, and most likely male, with the high tones of someone who hadn't gone through puberty.

"The _Barton_ house?!" Sam managed to say, his own voice going high. "As in _Clint_ Barton?"

"Yeah…that's my dad." the speaker replied. "Uh…are you one of the Avengers?"

There was loud chattering in the background, and the speaker muttered, "Quiet, Lila!"

Sam shook his head and decided to play along. "Yeah, I kinda am."

"Oh. Uh…do you wanna talk to my mom?"

"Maybe that would be helpful."

"Okay. I'll get her." There was a loud 'clack' as the phone on the other end was presumably set down.

After a few moments of dead air, there was suddenly static, and a woman's voice said, "Hello? Did Clint give you this number?"

"Yes, ma'am…" Sam muttered, grateful to have someone talking sense. "Uh…how exactly are you…?"

The woman sighed on the other end. "My name is Laura Barton. Clint…is my husband. The sweet boy who answered the phone is our son, Cooper, and our daughter Lila is currently babbling about the fact that I'm talking to one of the Avengers…by the way, you are…?"

"Sam Wilson." Sam said, on autopilot. "They call me the Falcon."

"Oh. Yeah, Clint definitely mentioned you. All good things, I promise." Laura's voice sounded like she was smiling.

Sam's head felt like a spinning top.

"Okay…let me get this straight. Clint Barton, aka, Hawkeye…is _married_? With _children_?"

"Correct on both counts." Laura sighed again. "This is probably the worst timing ever for you to find out, but I think he needed something this drastic to finally come clean…he's been so on edge about keeping us safe, ever since last spring—D.C…."

Sam let out a shaky breath. "Yes. Well. We've all been a bit on edge after that. But seriously…" He shook his head. "Well, guess I'll get to the point. Uh, Clint basically said me and two others could crash at your house, but I had no idea…"

"It's still perfectly fine." Laura said firmly. "Clint explained the situation. We have enough space."

Sam couldn't resist muttering, "Well at least he explained things to _one_ of us…"

"I know, it seems so clandestine, but please…I'd like the chance to meet some of you all in person, and I'm sure the kids would too…"

Laura sounded extremely apologetic. Sam sighed. It wasn't like he could really blame her.

Clint on the other hand…Clint Barton had some explaining to do.

"If you really don't mind, we'll come. Christy could use some time with kids her own age, anyway."

"Oh, how is she doing? I can't wait to meet her! Clint said so many good things…"

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Well, she's Captain America's kid, alright. Very sweet, sort of snarky, and…currently pretty shaken up."

"She could probably stand to get away from everything."

"Exactly." Sam was starting to like this woman.

 _You sure know how to pick 'em, Barton…_

"So, we're around four hours out from the city…would you leave tomorrow?"

Sam thought for a second, and then replied. "Yeah, that sounds fine. Listen, I really appreciate…"

"Don't mention it." Laura said firmly. "It's our pleasure."

* * *

"I still can't believe Uncle Clint's _married_." Christy muttered. It was the next day, Thursday, and they were all piled in the black SUV that Tony called Steve's 'dad car'.

"That makes three of us." Bucky replied, from the shotgun seat. He scanned the horizon. "Man, it's dead out here!"

"City boy…" Sam joked, keeping his eyes on the road (because this seemed like the sort of place where deer would leap out in front of them at any moment).

Christy gave a gut-level sigh and whispered. "But why didn't he tell us? I mean, I know he keeps secrets, but…this is a pretty big secret!"

Sam shook his head. "I really don't know, kid. I don't think he was trying to be mean. I think it mighta been for safety reasons…"

"Oh…'cause he was a spy and now he's an Avenger? But why didn't he tell _us_? Dad didn't try to hide it from everybody when he adopted me!"

"Look, you'll just have to ask when you see him again." Sam said. "Cause we can keep up the 'but why's' forever, but we'll never get anywhere."

"Kinda like now?" Bucky snarked, trying to get Christy's mind off of the situation. "'Cause I swear I saw this same field five miles back.."

Sam rolled his eyes, but relief surged though him as Christy laughed a little.

 _She's been way too quiet…and having nightmares again. This whole thing is just not healthy for her at all…_

 _I really hope Clint was right about this…_

* * *

"There's only one good word to describe this." Bucky said as they parked the car in the graveled driveway of the house. Laura had given Sam the address.

"Is it 'awkward'?" Christy hissed. "'Cause that's how it feels."

"Something along those lines…"

They reached the front door.

Sam sighed. "Try and act respectable, you two!" He said, as he knocked on the brown wooden door.

"Yes, _dad_." Bucky muttered. Sam was about to shoot back a smart remark, when the door swung open.

A small girl of about six stood beaming in the entryway. "Hi! I'm Lila. Mom's coming." She looked up and stared them over with an intense chocolate-brown gaze that reminded Sam very strongly of Clint.

Christy looked out from behind Bucky. She'd been pretending to be shy, like she always did when she was nervous. "I'm Christy."

Lila smiled. "Wanna come see my room?"

Christy smiled back and nodded. "Okay."

Bucky breathed out in relief.

 _So far…spectacular. She's actually smiling like a normal kid. Thank you, Clint…_

A beautiful (and extremely pregnant) brunette lady with the same eyes as Lila suddenly appeared at the door. "Oh, hi, come in, please. Let's figure things out in the house."

Lila grabbed Christy's hand and pulled her forward. Sam and Bucky trooped in behind the two girls, who seemed to be giving each other silent appraisals.

They all walked back into the kitchen, where a boy of about nine, with his mother's dark hair and Clint's hazel eyes was sitting at the table. He looked up the noise and smiled happily. "Hi. I'm Cooper. Are you guys really Avengers?"

"Cooper, remember your manners." Laura chided softly.

"Yeah, we are." Sam added. As soon as he spoke, Cooper looked slightly embarrassed.

"Did I talk to you on the phone?"

Sam nodded.

"Oh…sorry if I freaked you out. Mom said you kinda sounded freaked out."

Laura shook her head.

"Oh, he was." Bucky chimed in. "But that was your dad's fault, not yours."

Christy, still standing next to Lila, looked over at Laura. "Can I call you Aunt Laura?" she asked quietly.

Laura immediately went into 'mom mode'. "Of course you can, sweetie." She gave Christy a hug. "I'm really glad to finally meet you. You're as beautiful as Clint said."

Christy ducked her head. Bucky rubbed her shoulder. "Aw, quit pretending you're shy, kid."

"I'm not shy, but this is weird!" Christy burst out. She then looked slightly embarrassed. "I mean…I'm sorry."

"It is a little weird." Laura admitted. "And it's not the best timing in the world. But it's not bad either, right?"

Christy shook her head. "It's not. I'm sorry. I'm kinda tired, I didn't sleep so good last night."

Cooper looked curious. "Why not?"

Christy bit her lip and looked very much like she was about to burst into tears. "I miss my dad. I'm scared 'cause he had to go fight."

Cooper stood up. "Wanna go where I go when I miss my dad?"

"It's nice." Lila added. "Nicer than my room."

Christy nodded and the two Barton kids escorted her back out through the front door, and around to the back of the yard, where a wooden treehouse perched in a large oak tree.

Which left three adults standing semi-awkwardly in the kitchen.

Laura sighed. "Well, now that that's happened…"

"Introductions?" Bucky offered. Laura smiled.

"I think I know who you two are. Bucky Barnes, correct?"

Bucky nodded, looking a bit startled. And then annoyed, as he realized that Clint had probably told his wife about them all. "Very pleased to meet you, ma'am; however, I may have to punch your husband when this is all over."

"I think there's gonna be a line." Laura said. Turning to Sam, she added, "So that makes you Sam Wilson. The 'only sane man'."

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes. And now the _only_ one in possession of that title, thanks to Mr. 'I Have a Secret Life'…"

"Yes. Well…" Laura shook her head. "And then there's me. Laura Barton. Clint's wife and the mother of those two monkeys out there." She glanced around the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee? We have a Keurig…"

"You should sit down…" Bucky said quietly. "I mean, considering you're kind of…y'know…"

"Pregnant?" Laura smirked. "I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Barnes."

"I insist." Bucky pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and swept his non-metal hand downward.

Sam looked gob smacked. "Clearly, you need a date."

"It's called being a gentleman, Wilson."

"Oh, and I'm not…"

Laura chuckled. "Ah, boys. I've forgotten how crazy they can be in groups." She sat down. "I'll sit if you two will as well."

Both men sat down. Laura leaned forward slightly.

"So…I know some things. But what exactly has been happening?"

Sam sighed. "How much do you know?"

* * *

"I've never been in a tree house before." Christy said, as she followed Cooper up the wood-beam ladder.

"Don't they have tree houses in New York City?" Lila asked. She was behind Christy.

Cooper snorted. "No. New York's got skyscrapers. Giant big building made of metal and glass. Dad showed us pictures, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. Do you live in a skyscraper, Christy?"

"Yeah…yeah, I guess it is. It's called Avengers' Tower, but we just call it the Tower. Everybody has a floor to themselves."

They reached the top of the tree and pulled themselves into the wooden 'house'. It was very nicely constructed with plenty of room for three children.

"I like it up here 'cause I can see everything." Cooper said. "All open field for miles. And it's quiet. I like quiet sometimes."

"Are you really Captain America's kid?" Lila asked, her eyes big and earnest.

Christy nodded. "Yeah, I am. Only, his name's not really Captain America. That's just his superhero name."

"Like Dad's is Hawkeye." Cooper chimed in.

"Yeah, like that. His real name's Steve Rogers. And he's the best dad in the world…"

"How old are you?" Cooper asked quickly, since Christy was frowning like she was about to cry, again. "I'm nine."

"And I'm six!" Lila added proudly.

"I'm ten." Christy said quietly. "What…what do you guys like to do?"

Cooper shrugged. "I like to read. And practice archery, but only when Dad's home. It's no fun by myself."

Christy looked happy at that. "I like books and music. And my punching bag."

"You have a punching bag?" Cooper cried.

"You have a bow and arrow." Christy pointed out.

"Yeah, but…I thought only boys had punching bags."

"Well…I have one. Like Dad. It's a special one that has bad guy's faces on it."

"I like drawing and coloring. And reading, too." Lila said. "Are we cousins? 'Cause we don't really have any cousins. Dad doesn't really have a family and Mom's doesn't like us."

"'Cause she married Dad." Cooper explained. "They kinda don't like him for some reason."

Christy frowned. "Who could hate Uncle Clint? He's great. He took care of me last year when Dad was in D.C…I kinda feel bad about that now. I used to hate it when he left for weekends. If I'd known…"

"I don't mind sharing Dad." Cooper said. "And you call him Uncle Clint. So we are cousins."

Christy shrugged. "Guess so. I never had cousins before, either." She smiled. "I like it."

* * *

"Can I touch your arm?" Lila asked Bucky.

Everyone was sitting around the kitchen table (some on actual chairs, some on folding chairs) eating dinner, which consisted of baked chicken, potatoes, and broccoli.

"Lila…" Laura said in a warning tone. Bucky shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine…go ahead, kid."

Lila reached over and stroked the metal gently with one finger. "It's so pretty…"

Bucky felt his throat catch. He'd mostly gotten over his self-consciousness about the arm, but still…

'Pretty' probably wasn't the first word he'd use to describe it.

"Does it hurt?" Lila asked.

"Nah, not really…maybe it did once, but not anymore."

Lila nodded. "Did Mr. Tony give it to you? Dad said he makes metal stuff."

Bucky sighed. "No…I wish Tony gave it to me."

"The bad guys did. HYDRA." Christy said. "His real arm got hurt 'cause he fell off a train in the mountains, and then the bad guys found him and gave him a metal arm."

"Christy…" Sam warned.

The blonde pursed her lips. "'S true."

"Why'd bad guys _give_ you something?" Cooper asked. "Bad guys don't give, they take stuff."

"You're right, they don't give, not without a price." Bucky said quietly. "They…they hurt my brain, so I couldn't remember anything. Not my friend, not my life, not my name. And they made me…do bad things. Because I couldn't remember they were bad."

The room was deathly quiet.

"That's like what happened to Dad." Cooper whispered to Christy. "I know 'cause I listened to Mom and Dad talk one night."

Christy nodded. "Only, Uncle Bucky's was worse…"

"But you remember stuff now, right?" Lila asked, eyes wide.

Bucky nodded. "I do. I do because my friends found me and helped me remember."

Laura shot Sam a look. Sam mouthed 'understatement of the year'.

Lila gave the metal arm a final pat. "I'm glad you're better." Bucky sighed again.

"Me, too, kid. Me, too."

* * *

Lila wouldn't hear of anything less than Christy sleeping in her room, so the two girls were currently piled into Lila's double bed. The Barton's only had one extra guest room, though, so Sam and Bucky were stuck sharing a bed. Not the most ideal of circumstances, but do-able. Thankfully, Sam slept like the dead.

Bucky, however, could _not_ sleep. He didn't know if it was the unfamiliar environment, or his own pressing worries about Steve, but rest seemed to be completely eluding him. Finally, he gave up, slid quietly out of bed and padded out into the living room.

 _Clint had a nice place_ , he thought faintly. _Very nice. Typical 'American Dream' house_.

He settled down on one of the couches and lost himself in daydreams (nightdreams?)

 _Maybe someday I can have a place like this. Maybe all of us can. Maybe someday, we won't have to fight…_

* * *

Lila woke up to a strange sound, like someone was talking. For a minute, she thought that Dad was home, and he and Mom were talking in the kitchen.

But the noise was right next to her ear, so she turned over.

Christy was curled into a ball and in the moonlight though the window blinds, Lila could see that she looked upset.

"No…" Christy mumbled. "Daddy, run…you gotta run. They're gonna get you…run, Daddy."

Christy was having a nightmare.

Lila rolled out of bed. _Mom will know what to do. Mom_ _ **always**_ _knows what to do…_

As she came out into the hallway and started to turn towards her parents' room, she noticed a figure stretched out on the couch in the living room.

The figure started up suddenly. "Hey, kid, uh…Lila. What's up?"

Lila took a step closer.

"Mr. Bucky? How come you're not asleep?"

Bucky grinned slightly. "Just couldn't. What's wrong?"

Lila frowned. "Christy's talking in her sleep, like Cooper does sometimes. She was telling her Daddy to run. So I was gonna get Mom…"

Bucky swallowed a curse and started to walk towards Lila's room. "I'll get her. Maybe you should go bunk with your mom, kid. This could take a while."

But Lila shook her head. "I'm okay."

Bucky shook his own head in disbelief. _Right, Clint's kid. Probably not afraid of conflict and high emotional situations…_

As soon as they entered the room, Bucky sat down on the bed and gently pried Christy out from under the blanket. "Christy? C'mon, doll, wake up for me, huh? Wake up for Uncle Bucky..."

Christy's eyes shot open wide and her chest started heaving.

"Okay, that's it, easy...shh…" Bucky kept her pressed tight against his chest. "'M here…"

"Dad?" Christy whispered hesitantly.

Bucky sighed. "I wish, kid."

Christy's face crumpled up immediately. "I dreamed that…that _thing_ was gonna get Dad! That he was hurting him and I was screaming for him to run, but he didn't run and he…he stopped breathing like mom and then…and then I was alone…"

Bucky slowly gathered Christy's hair out of her face. "Shh…listen to me, kid. Your dad is not about to die on you. I promise."

"But you can't promise! Nobody can promise anything! Sometimes…sometimes nice people die, even when they didn't want to."

The room was quiet for a moment. Bucky couldn't refute any of that. It was true.

It was heart-breakingly true.

"But…but your dad's really strong, right?" Lila asked, sitting down next to Bucky on the bed. "He's strong and fast and he's got a shield. He won't die..." Suddenly, the six year old's face froze. "What if my dad does? He doesn't have super powers, not really! What if…?"

Bucky felt Christy wriggle out of his grip and plant herself between him and Lila. "But Uncle Clint's done a lot of spy stuff. He knows how to get away from bad guys. He'll be okay…"

Lila still looked a little scared. "But what if the bad robot hurts him? He's not super-fast, so he maybe can't get away…"

Bucky decided to end this before it could get away from him any further.

"We are _not_ …" he tucked both girls under his arm, "…discussing which of your dads is more likely to die because _no one is dying_! Understand? None of the Avengers. They're all gonna come out of this _alive_. Get it?"

He could feel the brush of hair on his arm as both girls nodded.

"Good. Now…" he sighed heavily. "To bed, the both of ya. I know at least one of you has school tomorrow…"

"Mom said we didn't have to go." Lila corrected. "'Cause it's Friday and none of us have tests."

"Right…okay. But you still need sleep." He rolled off of the bed and started to prop himself up against Lila's night table. "I'll stay here until you two fall asleep."

"But my brain won't stop talking to itself…" Christy protested.

"Me neither…" Lila added.

Bucky stared. And sighed again.

"Fine…do lullabies work on you too, Lila?"

Lila nodded enthusiastically and both girls immediately scrambled under the covers.

"You have to come back on the bed." Christy added. "Otherwise we can't hear you."

 _Oh for the love of God…_ But he did. He had re-learned how to say no to most people, but not to Christy. Not for anything that wasn't life-threatening.

He started to sing.

 _"_ _Gol-den slumbers kiss your eyes_

 _Smi-les await you when you rise…"_

The tune was familiar, the words pulled out of a long-ago memory. It was also Christy's favorite. (And…his too.)

 _"_ _Cares you know not, therefore sleep._

 _While I watch o'er you, do not weep…"_

 _No more weeping._ He prayed silently. _There's already been enough of that._

He told himself that he would get off the bed, now that he actually felt tired. But before he could move, the world faded to black…

* * *

Sam woke up around six the next morning, got out of bed, and made his way out to the kitchen. Fixing coffee seemed like a nice way to make up for unceremoniously showing up on someone's doorstep. As he passed a slightly ajar door, though, some glint of light caught his eye.

Opening the door, he peered in and immediately started fumbling for his phone.

Bucky Barnes was asleep half sitting up in the middle of Lila's bed. Somehow, over the course of the night, the two girls had managed to turn him into a makeshift pillow. All three were currently dead to the world.

Sam smirked. _So much for the "Scary Winter Soldier."_ _Caption: Ladies Man._

Bucky's eyes cracked open; he was not exactly a heavy sleeper after everything he'd been through. He caught sight of Sam and muttered. " _Shaddap_."

"Coffee'll be ready soon." Was all Sam replied.

He exited the room and continued into the kitchen.

 _Alright, Clint, I have to hand it to you…this was a pretty good idea._

* * *

 **The inspiration for Christy's nightmare dialogue comes from the song "Run, Daddy, Run"; which was made for the Hunger Games soundtrack. The song fits Katniss in that universe, but several lines also accurately describe Christy's emotional state at this point, so it might be worth checking out.**

 **I doubt I will update before Friday, if even then. Thanksgiving Break starts this Friday and that means all the professors cram things in before break, so I will be focusing on my schoolwork.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	11. The Cave of Adullam

**Author's Note: I'm back, everyone! Sorry this took so long, between the amount of work I had to finish last week, and everything I've been doing while on break, I haven't had much time to write. And, when I had the time, I really didn't have the energy!**

 **The title of this chapter...I was so excited about it, actually, because I usually have a terrible time coming up with titles. It's a reference to the story of King David in the Bible, specifically I Samuel 22:1-3. To sum up the story (which you should all read, by the way): David was the one chosen by God to be king of Israel. The current king, Saul, was not happy about that and paranoid that David would kill him and steal the throne (which, he didn't). So David went into hiding as basically an outlaw and everyone who was "** **in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him" at this place called the "Cave of Adullam". At this point, the Avengers are definitely in distress and discontented, so Clint's house becomes their "Cave of Adullam".  
**

 **Also, there is dialogue used taken directly from AoU. If you've seen the movie, you know which parts. I take no credit for Joss Whedon's brilliance.**

 **All the usual things apply: Thanks to all reviewers, please keep up the good work ;) Enjoy the chapter!**

 **Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers!**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: The Cave of Adullam

Sam had just finished dumping the last of the ground coffee into the coffee-maker when the tromping sound of footsteps told him that he was not alone.

Cooper came stumbling into the kitchen, hair tousled but eyes alert. He glanced over at Sam with a puzzled look, as though he were trying to remember who this strange man in his kitchen was.

All of sudden, his face relaxed. "Oh. Morning, Mr. Sam. Why are you making coffee?"

Sam grinned. "Figured it was good way to say sorry for showing up on your doorstep unexpectedly."

Cooper frowned and sat down at the table. "But you didn't show up unexpectedly. You called first."

"Yeah, I know. But I still feel kinda bad."

"Well, don't. Nothing interesting ever happens when Dad's gone. All we do is go to school and pretend to be surprised like everyone else when the Avengers go fight someone."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You sound like Christy. She hates having to fake like she doesn't already know stuff, too." Dark, black coffee started to drip into the coffeepot. "You like coffee, kid?" he asked, half-joking.

Cooper shook his head violently. "Nuh-uh! That stuff is gross!" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I think it's got some kinda chemical in it or something, 'cause Dad always acts like a zombie until he drinks it in the morning. Mom too, but not as bad."

Sam bit his lip to keep from losing it then and there. "Well…you're right about the chemical part. Coffee has something in it called caffeine. It makes your heart pump faster, so you feel more awake. The bad news is, some people get to the point where they can't function without that wake-up jolt."

Looking thoughtful, Cooper muttered, "Then I'll stick with hot chocolate. That doesn't have caffeine in it, does it?"

Sam frowned. "Uh…hate to break it to ya, kid, but it does. Just not as much as coffee."

Cooper nodded. "Okay." He looked down at his hands. "So…what's it like being an Avenger?"

Sam poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Cooper. "Absolutely crazy."

"That's what Dad says. Is it good crazy or bad crazy?"

"Good crazy, promise." Sam took a sip of his drink. "I mean…I didn't ask to be an Avenger. I kinda just got dragged into this."

Cooper leaned forward. "How?"

"Well, it sort of started because I met Steve, uh—Captain America, in D.C. But it really started because him and Natasha, Black Widow, showed up at my house after some bad guys took over SHIELD…you know SHIELD?"

"Yeah. I hear Mom and Dad talk. Even when they don't know it."

Sam grinned at this candid confession. "Okay. Well, the bad guys took over SHIELD and suddenly Captain America and the Black Widow are on my doorstep saying everyone they know is trying to kill them."

"Aunt Natasha said everyone they knew was trying to kill them?"

Sam gave a half-laugh. "And how do you know it was…" he trailed off. "Wait, you guys have met Natasha?"

Cooper nodded. "Yeah. She comes home with Dad sometimes."

Sam mentally facepalmed. _Of_ _ **course**_ _she does. Of_ _ **course**_ _._ _ **Why**_ _am I completely and utterly_ _ **not**_ _surprised?_

"So how'd you know Natasha said that?"

Cooper shrugged. "Sounds like something she'd say. So…they hid out in your house?"

"Ah…basically. Yeah, and then I helped them take down HYDRA. With my giant, metal wings." Sam shook his head. " _Man_ my life is crazy."

"So how come you're not fighting now?"

Sam sighed. "Because my friend _is_. And, unlike you and Lila, Christy doesn't have a safe house to go to. Or a mom. Outside of me and Bucky, and the Avengers…Steve's all she's got."

Cooper frowned. "Where's her mom?"

"Cancer." Sam muttered. Cooper made a disgusted face, and then looked sad.

"So she died?"

Sam nodded.

"Oh…" Suddenly, Cooper sat up straight, a very serious look on his face. "She has a safe house now. And she can borrow my mom if she wants."

Sam nodded again, slowly. "I think she'd like that. I also think she'd like it if you told her that yourself."

Cooper shrugged. "Okay, I will. I…I like that."

"Like what?"

Cooper glanced down at the table. "I like…having the house that anybody can go to. Where people can be safe and eat and sleep, and not have to worry about bad guys. I don't think I wanna be an Avenger like Dad, but…I like making sure people are okay."

Sam smiled. "Now _that_ is a very important job, kid."

"As important as Avenging?"

"As important as Avenging. Maybe even more."

* * *

"We're gonna have to make boundaries." Christy said firmly, glancing around the Barton's front yard. "Otherwise I'll never be able to find you guys. Everybody hides better at their own house, anyway."

It was mid-morning. Currently, all three kids were enjoying their free day by engaging in what was shaping up to be a serious game of hide-n-seek.

Cooper nodded and scanned the yard. "Don't go past that field over there." he said, pointing back beyond the house. "There's nowhere good to hide there, anyway. Just the barn and the bushes and trees in our yard."

"Okay, sounds fair."

Lila, never one for logistics, heaved a sigh. "Can we play _now_?"

With a dramatic flourish, Christy spun around and closed her eyes. "One, two…"

She heard the sound of Cooper and Lila starting to make a break for it…and then the sound of something large and metal whizzing through the air…

Her eyes flew open just in time to see what looked like a tiny version of a helicarrier descend out of the sky.

The machine landed in the field Cooper had just declared off-limits for hiding in.

The kids all huddled close together, barely registering that the door had been flung open and all three adults had rushed out of the house as well.

The small helicarrier's door opened into a staircase, and down stepped a man wearing a gray collared shirt, a black suit coat, black slacks, a balaclava…and an eyepatch.

Sam bit into his sleeve and hissed several words that he definitely had promised _never_ to say around Christy.

Bucky was less restrained. "What the hell is he doing here?" he cried, though he did manage to lower his voice at the last second.

"Sorry to barge in on you folks…" Fury called out. "But, ah, I got word that you're about to have a few more guests on your hands. Well, more like five guests and one person who lives here."

Laura sighed. "I should start charging rent."

"Who's that?" Lila whispered. Christy started to answer, but Cooper beat her to the punch.

"That's Nick Fury. He's Dad's boss…well, kinda. He came here once, but you were little."

"He's not really anybody's boss, 'cause SHIELD collapsed." Christy added. "But he still acts like it. He's such a big spy, Uncle Tony said his _secrets_ have secrets!"

"So, do I need to move my helicarrier, or can it stay as is?" Fury continued, as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

Laura shook her head. "You might want to move it into the woods, just in case. We don't have very close neighbors, but…"

Fury nodded. "I was probably gonna do that anyway. It'll be best that they don't know I'm here when they arrive."

"Then why exactly _are_ you here?" Sam questioned.

"Is a man not allowed to check up on his team without suspicion?"

"No." Sam said firmly

"Not you, anyway." Bucky added.

Fury sighed. "It was about this time last time that they needed a pep talk. I figured that even if I can't be head of SHIELD anymore, I can at least give inspiring speeches."

Christy couldn't help but let out a snort at that. Fury turned sideways to face her.

"Well, well, look who's here."

Christy crossed her arms. "Uncle Nick, did you know Uncle Clint had a family this _whole time_?"

Fury pretended to think things over. "If I say yes, do I still get a hug?"

Christy sighed. " _Yes_. But you're not the only one whose secrets have secrets!"

"Okay, so how many people knew about all this?" Sam asked, gesturing around the farm.

Fury checked off people on his hand. "Me, Hill, Coulson, Romanoff…that's about it."

"Any more secrets we don't know about?" Bucky said, crossing his arms.

Fury smirked. "Where should I start?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Aw, forget it!"

Clearly, there were some battles of wits that one could not win. Especially when they were against Nicholas J. Fury.

* * *

"Are they coming?" Christy asked, craning her neck to peer out the window.

Cooper was staring at the sky, when he suddenly spotted something. "Yeah! There they are!"

A quinjet suddenly descended out of the sky and landed in a clump of trees. Everyone watched as a very tired and battered looking group of Avengers poured out and staggered up the gravel path to the house.

Sam grabbed Christy by the shoulder. "C'mon, we're gonna go in my room for now. They'll be having enough shocks without wondering why the heck we turned up here."

Christy frowned. "But I wanna see Dad…"

"You will, but we're trying to have him not die of shock." Bucky replied. "Let 'em come in, breathe; process the fact that Hawk-man has a family. Then we'll come out."

Reluctantly, Christy followed her uncles upstairs. She resolved to listen out the door until she could go down.

Meanwhile, Cooper and Lila were peeking through the curtains on the living room window.

"I wonder what's wrong with Auntie Nat." Lila said, frowning in concern. "Daddy's holding her up, like she got hurt."

Cooper shrugged, though he looked equally upset. "Dunno. They all look really tired."

"Well, they did just fight a bad guy…and Mr. Nick said the fight didn't go so good. Maybe that's why."

At the mention of Fury, Cooper suddenly started. "Where _is_ he?"

"Hiding. With his plane probably." Laura said, coming up behind her children. "Guys…do me a favor and _don't_ come barreling out as soon as your dad comes through the door."

"But _why_?" Lila asked.

"So we don't freak everybody out?" Cooper guessed.

Laura nodded. "Exactly. Look…go in your rooms, and when you hear the door open, count to…" She tried to think of a fair number. "…thirty. Then come out."

"We'll go hide in Mr. Sam's room, with everybody else." Lila said firmly. She grabbed Cooper's arm and half pulled her brother towards the staircase.

Laura sighed and went into the kitchen to check the amount of food in the fridge. At this rate, she was probably going to have to make a shopping run. She was just starting to gather up a few of the kid's loose school papers, when…

The front door creaked open and she heard Clint call out, "Honey? I'm home!"

Even with the small advance warning, her heart still leapt up into her throat, hearing that voice.

 _He's actually home…_

She came to the place where the living room met the front hall and gazed at Clint, trying to drink in everything about him.

 _I'm so glad he's here…_

"Hey…company." he muttered. "Sorry I didn't call ahead…"

"Hey…" she whispered back, cutting his ramblings off with a kiss.

She vaguely registered someone saying, "This is an agent of some kind."

They broke apart and Laura looked around at the sea of faces: one familiar and four known only from pictures and stories.

"Gentlemen, this is Laura." Clint said, with much understated introduction.

She gave a small wave and smile. "Hi. I, ah…know all your names."

Indeed she did. Aside from Nat, who looked simultaneously exhausted and relieved to be here, everyone's face bore a look of "what the heck is going on here?!" There was Steve Rogers, standing tall and trying to be the leader, even though he looked beat and confused, and Thor, looking extremely out of place and curious. The famous Tony Stark managed to return her wave, even as he looked completely weirded out. And Bruce Banner…

Bruce Banner looked like he wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for an age or two.

Laura could feel her 'mom mode' kicking in. 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' they might be, but right now, they more resembled a bunch of lost puppies.

Footsteps sounded down the stairs. Clint turned. "Ooh, incoming."

And Laura couldn't help but smile as Lila and Cooper ran headlong into Clint.

"Hey, sweetheart! Hey, buddy! How ya doin'?"

If Laura had thought everyone's faces were hilarious _before_ , it was nothing compared to now.

"These are…smaller agents…" Tony muttered. Laura rolled her eyes.

"Did you bring Auntie Nat?" Lila asked.

Natasha unclenched herself from her slightly stiff pose. "Why don't ya hug her and find out?"

Lila ran squealing into Natasha's arms.

"Sorry for barging in on you…" Steve said politely, still looking a bit puzzled.

"Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed." Tony chimed in snarkily.

"Well, Fury helped me set this up, when I joined." Clint explained. "He kept it off SHIELD's files; I'd like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low."

Natasha came over to Laura. "So, ah…how's little Natasha?" she asked, gesturing towards the baby bump.

Laura gave her an apologetic grin. " _She_ is…Nathaniel." They had been all set to name their next child after Clint's best friend…but nature had taken its course. At least they could still do it halfway.

Natasha's easy grin faded into a look of mock indignation. "Traitor." she muttered at Laura's belly.

Laura grinned. "Alright, one more surprise, if you all can stand it." she called out. Clint looked confused, and then pleased. Everyone else just simply looked confused.

"Christy!" Lila yelled up the stairs.

"Sweetie, no yelling in the house…" Clint tried, but he was drowned out by a second round of racing footsteps as yet another child bounded into the hallway.

Steve's face had frozen when Lila yelled Christy's name. As soon as she came into view, his jaw actually dropped.

"Dad!" Christy screamed, throwing herself against Steve's giant chest. "Dad, Dad, I missed you…"

Somehow, Steve managed to make his arms move and wrap them around his daughter.

"Hey, baby…" he whispered. His eyes suddenly felt wet and he could feel himself sinking to his knees, still keeping a firm grip on Christy.

He hadn't been this glad to see her since…since D.C. Since the last time there was a serious threat. He'd been so busy…

 _I am_ _ **never**_ _taking her for granted, ever again! Never!_ He squeezed her tighter. _Not my baby._

He managed to stand and glanced over at Clint. "How…?"

Clint grinned. "I gave the house number to Sam and Bucky…where are those two, by the way?"

"Right here, Mr. 'I've Got Some Explaining to Do'." Sam said, as he and Bucky came around the corner.

Bucky gave Steve a half-smile. "Glad to see you still alive, punk."

Steve let out a fake growl, and gave Bucky a one-armed embrace. The other arm was holding firmly to his daughter.

"So, wait, you knew about this?" Tony protested. "How did _they_ know about this?"

Sam sighed. "Mr. 'I've Got A Secret Life' over here slips me this phone number right before you all take off. 'Call it,' he says. 'It's a safe house,' he says. So, I call. We needed to get out of the city; it was wearing us out. And when the call goes through, guess what I hear? 'Hello, this is the Barton residence'. The **_Barton_** residence! As if this is the most freaking normal thing ever!"

"That was me." Cooper whispered. Natasha gave him a smirk.

"Yeah, sorry to drop that one on you…" Clint said, not sounding particularly sorry.

"Ya shoulda heard his voice." Bucky said, with a grin. "It dropped an octave. 'The _Barton_ residence?'" he mimicked in a high falsetto.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I did not sound that high."

With all the controlled chaos going on, only Natasha and Steve noticed that Thor was headed for the door. Giving Christy a quick kiss on her forehead, Steve followed after him.

Natasha grabbed Christy's shoulder. "He'll be back in a sec, kid. I missed your face."

Christy smiled a little and leaned in. "Missed you, too." She gazed up into Natasha's weary-looking expression. "I love you." She said firmly. "I really love you."

She turned her attention to Bruce next, smothering him in a hug. "Uncle Bruce, I don't care what the news says the Hulk did, I love you."

Natasha could see Bruce biting down on his lip and blinking furiously.

"Thanks, kid…" he whispered.

Christy pulled back. "I _mean_ it." she said, gazing up almost sternly.

Then, she looked over at Tony. The billionaire sighed.

"Yeah, yeah; I know kid. I done screwed up. Spare me the lecture…I already got it from your old man."

Christy shrugged. "Then listen to it." She hugged him. "I really love you, Uncle Tony. Promise. But we gotta talk later."

Tony made a scoffing sound that might have been a cover up for a sob. "Yeah, sure kid. Whatever you say."

As Christy and Tony continued in their small staring match, Natasha bumped Clint's shoulder. "I _told_ you this was a good idea." she whispered.

Clint smiled slightly.

 _Yeah, yeah; Tasha was right…_ He glanced around at the blending of his two worlds. _This_ _ **was**_ _a pretty good idea…_

* * *

Everyone managed to get though a round of showers without using up all the hot water. Natasha and Bruce were currently both asleep, exhausted in more ways than one.

Steve and Tony, due to either jet lag or something else, were not tired at all, so Laura had put them both to work chopping firewood. Bucky and Sam had been co-opted for some project at the back of the house that possibly involved a chain saw, as evidenced from the loud whirring sounds echoing from said area. Thor, of course, was already long gone.

Clint, meanwhile, was repairing some of the loose posts on the front porch. Cooper, Lila, and Christy were all hanging around and giving varying degrees of help.

Snatches of Steve and Tony's "discussion" drifted over to the porch. Lila frowned. "I think your dad is mad at Mr. Tony." she said to Christy.

Christy nodded. "They fight sometimes. Sam says they see stuff differently, which makes them not agree. So they yell, but then they always make up."

Clint smirked at this very succinct summation of Steve and Tony's relationship. "Mr. Tony's also done some not-so-smart things lately, without telling any of us." he added.

"He's not the only one keeping secrets." Christy muttered.

Clint sighed. _I knew this was coming…_ He faced Christy.

"Okay, kid, out with it. Passive-aggressive looks terrible on you."

"What's passive-aggressive?" Cooper asked.

"Go ask Sam later." Clint replied, not taking his eyes from Christy.

Christy crossed her arms. "How come you didn't tell us? I mean, I get it: you're a spy and spies keep secrets, but not from people they trust! Dad told all you guys when he was adopting me, how come you didn't tell us…?" She trailed off. "Didn't you trust us?"

Clint let out a long, heavy sigh. "Plain and simple, kid? I was scared. Look, I hate to use this phrase, 'cause most of the time it's a cop-out, but sometimes it actually is true: you'll understand when you're older. Someday, you're gonna be all grown up and probably have a family of your own, and then you'll know…you'll know how scary it can be, having people to protect."

All three kids were staring at Clint, as he continued.

"Maybe it's not the best excuse in the world. But every time I thought it might be safe to spill…something would happen. And after SHIELD fell apart, I got real paranoid. I was worried, and…by then I was so used to keeping the secret that I just kinda kept things the way they'd been."

"What made you change your mind?" Christy whispered.

Clint shook his head. "I saw how crazy things were, all because of part of the team did something behind everyone else's back. And I thought…enough's enough. So, I'm sorry if you felt like I didn't trust you or something, Christy. But to be honest…sometimes keeping secrets is more about danger than not trusting people."

Silence settled over the group for a moment. Then, suddenly, Cooper cried. "Mr. Steve just ripped a piece of wood in half!"

Sure enough, the two sides of a chunk of wood lay haphazardly on the ground in front of Steve.

Christy shrugged, as Laura came out of the house and said something to Tony. "That's my dad!"

"So are we good?" Clint asked. "'Cause I'd hate to be on my favorite niece's bad side."

Christy nodded slowly. "Yeah, we're good. And I'm your _only_ niece!"

"Am I your favorite daughter, then?" Lila asked innocently.

"Yes, you're my favorite…" Clint started, and then stopped as a giant grin appeared on the girl's face. "…you little faker." He grabbed Lila and started into the house.

"Don't take from my pile!" Tony cried out, as he started to walk towards the barn.

"But…his pile's so small." Cooper said, puzzled.

Christy shrugged again. "And _that's_ Uncle Tony."

* * *

Steve found Christy out on the front porch later that afternoon. "So…Clint has a pretty good set-up here." he said quietly.

Christy nodded. "I like it."

"Would you like a house like this?"

Christy glanced over as Steve sat in a chair next to her. "What about the Tower?"

"Oh, I didn't mean today. Just…someday, maybe. I'd like to give you an actual house." He laughed softly. " _I'd_ like an actual house."

"Maybe someday." Christy echoed. "But I don't mind living in the Tower." She paused. "Dad…what happened to everybody?"

Steve sighed wearily. "Remember how I told you about those two enhanced we fought? And how there were reports of them fighting with Ultron?"

Christy nodded.

"Well…one of them, the girl—Wanda's her name—she has…basically the power to manipulate minds. Telekinesis, they call it. She can use her mind to fight normally; push people back and such, but…"

Christy's face had a look of quiet anger. "Did she mess with your minds?"

Steve nodded. "She…twisted memories, I guess? At least, that's what happen to me. I saw…" he trailed off, a look of miserable longing on his face.

"Did you see Aunt Peggy?" Christy whispered.

All Steve could manage was another nod.

And in that moment, Christy decided that Wanda Maximoff had quite a lot to answer for.

She got out of her chair and managed to wiggle her way into her dad's lap.

"I love you, Dad." she said.

Steve shut his eyes and concentrated on the feel of that small body pressed up against his own.

"When this is all over, I'm taking you somewhere far away…" he whispered. "Somewhere like…oh, I dunno. Where do you wanna go?"

"Disney World?" Christy suggested. "Mom promised to take me once, but…"

"Disney World it is." Steve said firmly, before things could get any sadder. "When all this is over, I'm taking you to Disney World."

"It's a deal." Christy said. "Can…we stay here for a while? Just…sit?"

For an answer, Steve started to rock the chair back and forth. Christy lay her head on his shoulder.

The peaceful atmosphere wrapped around them like a blanket, and started to drip into Steve's soul.

 _This is great…absolutely great…_

* * *

It was a good thing that they'd taken that time to just sit still, Steve reflected later, because soon after Fury revealed himself, everything turned to bedlam, with people scattering themselves every which way.

"We'll stay here for another day or so, and then head back to the city." Sam said, as Steve once more threw his change of clothes into a duffel.

Steve nodded. "That should be fine. Just make sure…"

"I'll watch them." Sam said firmly. "Don't worry about it."

"Alright." Steve grabbed his duffel and straightened up. "Thanks, Sam." he added, gratitude taking over his voice. "I dunno what I'd do…"

"Hey." Sam gripped Steve's shoulder. "Don't even start. You'd do the same if the positions were reversed."

"Yeah."

Clint poked his head in the door. "Ready to head out? Fury wants to see ya."

"Almost." Steve hefted his duffel. "Where's my kid and my better half?"

Bucky appeared behind Clint. "That's debatable, punk."

Steve sighed. "Sure it is, jerk." He wrapped Bucky in a hard embrace. "See ya on the other side of all this."

"Don't you die on me." Bucky hissed firmly. "I already had to deal with Christy flipping out about that. Don't do anything stupid."

Steve nodded and flipped off a small salute. "Captain's honor."

"Dad!" Christy once more flung herself on Steve. "You leavin'?"

"Yeah, we're headin' out. You say 'bye to everyone else?"

Christy nodded. "Almost." she hugged Clint next. "Bye Uncle Clint. Come…come home, okay?"

Clint nodded, hearing the weight behind Christy's statement. "I promise."

"Be good, do your homework, listen to Sam and Bucky." Steve said firmly. "And I'll be home before you know it." He hugged Christy one last time. "Now go get to bed, alright? It's late."

As Christy trooped up the stairs to Lila's room, Steve turned and followed Clint out to where Fury stood in the hallway.

It was back to the chaos. But it had been nice to rest for a while.

* * *

 **Hope you all enjoyed the ChristyVerse take on the "Barton's Farm" scene. Next update should be sooner than this one, although I will be pretty busy the next few days. So we'll see how that goes.**

 **I almost forgot! The Civil War trailer! Guys...the Civil War trailer! My reactions were as follows:**

 **1) "Oh my gosh, this looks fantastic!"**

 **2) "Bucky!" "Steve!" "Sam!"**

 **3) "Well, I'm gonna have some work to do to explain all this in the ChristyVerse..."**

 **4) "Tony you idiot..."**

 **5) *Deep Breath* "This doesn't appear to screw things up too much..."**

 **So, in summation, I'm pretty excited/nervous/interested to see the fall out of this movie. Can't wait for May!**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	12. Fall Out

**Author's Note: I'm baaack! This chapter gave me a headache, but it's finally done! And I finally got to write a scene I'd had in mind since AoU came out.**

 **I've seen a lot of different ages for the Maximoff twins, but for my universe, I'm going to say that they're 20. Some stories I've read have them as teenagers, but I feel like that's pushing it, especially since Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Elizabeth Olsen are 25 and 26, respectively. But they do seem younger than the Avengers, and Steve (who's only really 27) specifically calls Pietro "kid," so...**

 **The idea of "Vizh" as the spelling for Vision's nickname comes from Qweb's stories. It's pronounced like the first half of "vision".**

 **All the usual things apply: Thanks to all reviewers, keep up the good work! You're a huge encouragement and incentive to write when my initiative is low.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Fall Out

They were flying.

They were flying, but Wanda felt more like she was falling.

Pietro's heart was beating again.

She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, but when she had seen his lifeless body ( _still, too still for him_ ) lying limp on the floor of the rescue ship, she had screamed and reached out with all her power, the red lightning pulsing through him relentlessly…

 _Come back to me! Come back to me, brother! Come back…_

His chest had risen and fallen, so fast that she'd though it was a hallucination at first. But then, she'd felt the familiar mind link click once more, and known this was no dream.

The ship was equipped with a clinic, so that was where they'd taken him. Stark had made a phone call to the doctor she'd freed from mind control…apparently she had a device that could regenerate life. Or something.

Part of Wanda's brain was wondering why on earth Stark would do anything for the two of them, after all the trouble they'd caused, but that part was largely usurped by the other parts that were screaming in joy and terror, because _Pietro was alive_ but _for how long?_

The android-that-was-not-Ultron (Vision, he'd called himself) was sitting with her in the tiny room. He was a good companion for this sort of thing: quiet and not asking probing questions like the others would probably try to do.

They sat for what felt like hours, before the door cracked open and a head poked into the room.

It was the archer—Hawkeye— _Barton_. The one who had been kind to her.

"We're almost back at the Tower." he said quietly.

Vision actually looked up and nodded in comprehension, but Wanda kept her head bowed, staring at Pietro.

Clint sighed. "Wanda? Did you hear me?"

Upon hearing her name, Wanda jumped and took in the fact that a statement had been directed at her.

"I…I…sorry." she said finally. "I did not hear."

Clint smiled gently. "It's alright. I just said we're almost back at the Tower. We'll get your brother in the regeneration cradle and hopefully Dr. Cho can work something out. SHIELD brought her back to New York for her own safety after what happened in South Korea."

Wanda peered at Clint through her hair, and finally asked the one question that had been on her mind since the final battle.

"What are you going to do to us?"

Clint looked confused. "I just said, we're gonna get…"

"No, no; I mean…after."

Wanda's voice was low and guilty. Clint let out a gut-level sigh.

"Look, I meant what I said before. You walked out that door; you fought with the rest of us. You're an Avenger now. I'm not sayin' that everyone's gonna welcome you two with open arms, but…well, we're not gonna kick you out in the street or something." He smirked. "The Avengers…we're a family. A weird, barely-sane family, but a family none the less. And you two just joined it." He glanced over at the fuchsia-and-gold android. "Same goes for you, Vizh."

Vision smiled. "I am honored…" the smile morphed into something that might have been a smirk. "…I think."

Clint rolled his eyes. "You _do_ have Jarvis' matrix. Okay, well, by this point you've got about half an hour before we hit the ground…"

* * *

Christy sat out on the balcony of 'her' floor, staring down at the teeming street below. The night air was fresh and finally not freezing cold, and the crazy mess of horns honking and people rushing every which way mimicked the feeling inside her.

She'd gotten off a skype call from her dad a few hours ago, and her world once more felt like everything had completely and irrevocably gone wrong. She was still trying to process all the things that had happened.

 _Uncle Bruce went off somewhere and nobody can track him. Uncle Tony used Jarvis and the mind stone to make…something. Named Vision. Do all androids have weird names? And those two crazy twins are on our side now, but one of them almost died…_

Yup, utter chaos was about to descend upon the Tower.

Meanwhile, Sam and Bucky were talking inside.

"Okay, so they'll be here soon." Sam said. "Are we clear on the plan?"

Bucky scoffed lightly. "What plan?"

"The 'we don't let them out of our sight' plan!" Sam cried.

Sam had put forth the theory (and Bucky couldn't think of a reason why he'd be wrong) that nobody except Clint and possibly Thor was emotionally stable enough to be left alone after everything. So the current plan was that they would team up to make sure everyone got to bed and actually _slept_ once _in_ bed. As much as was possible.

Bucky smirked. "Oh, yeah. That plan. Remind me how I'm sane enough to play 'only sane man', again?"

"Because you're about to be one of the few people in this Tower that hasn't spent the last week or so battling a psycho robot, Roadrunner boy, and creepy mind-twister girl!"

"Who are now on our side, apparently…?" Bucky muttered. "That's gonna be interesting."

The elevator door pinged open and Maria Hill stepped out far enough to keep the door from shutting.

"Interesting just landed." she said. "Everyone's headed to the Common Floor unless they're needed in the lab."

Sam nodded. "Right." He went over to the balcony door and peered out. "Christy? C'mon, chaos has arrived."

Christy stood up. "Ready." she said, though her voice sounded anything but.

Sam frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I'm fine…" Christy tried, but Sam barely let her get that far.

"Uh-uh. No way, you are not pulling that one on me. _What's_ _wrong_?"

Christy sighed. "Everything's crazy and I'm really glad this is over." she muttered finally.

Sam's face relaxed into a gentle smile. "Me too, kid." He took her hand. "C'mon."

* * *

The minute they all tumbled into Tony Stark's Tower, Wanda was sure she was going to lose what little sanity she still possessed in the mad rush of activity. Most everyone quickly hightailed it down to the Common Floor as Dr. Cho had Pietro transferred into the regeneration cradle, but even she had doubts.

"You say he actually stopped breathing for nearly fifteen minutes?" she questioned Wanda.

Wanda nodded; it seemed she was incapable of speech for the moment. Vision and Clint stood behind her like a protective barrier.

The doctor sighed. "I don't know…the machine will do the best it can. All we can do is hope for a miracle at this point. Is Dr. Banner…?" she gave Tony a questioning look.

"Dr. Banner is AWOL at the moment." Tony said calmly, but anyone with half a brain could hear the tinge of emotion behind the words. "We're not sure where he is or when he'll return."

Dr. Cho nodded solemnly and refrained from pressing the matter further. "Then you might need to stick around, Tony. I know this isn't exactly your field, but I might need…"

The billionaire shook his head wildly. "Yeah, yeah; I get it. Besides, not like I was going anywhere else any time soon."

Clint placed his hand on Wanda's shoulder. "C'mon, you should get some rest. You were sitting with him on the ship for almost five hours."

Wanda shook her head wildly. "No! I won't leave him alone! Not here!"

"Dr. Cho's gonna take good care…"

"No! With _him_!" she jabbed her finger in Tony's direction.

The smallest amount of hurt swept across Tony's face, but he quickly masked it with a self-deprecating grin. "Guess I'm not universally loved after all, who woulda thunk?" he muttered.

"What if I stayed?" Vision said quickly. "Would that ease your worry?"

Wanda took a deep breath. Vision intrigued her, and she certainly trusted him a lot more than _Stark_ at this point…

And he had saved her from the falling city…

"He's all I have left." she whispered finally.

"I will watch him with the utmost diligence." Vision said firmly.

"Anything for my sort-of rescuer." Dr. Cho added, giving Wanda a sympathetic smile.

Tony frowned. "Wait, what?"

"She…she lifted whatever spell Ultron had on my mind."

Clint nodded. "Oh, yeah, he got the Staff. That was like bad déjà vu I never wanted again." He squeezed Wanda's shoulder. "Here, we're gonna go downstairs. Figure everything out. Like sleeping arrangements. That'll be fun, yeah?"

He gently steered the still shell-shocked girl down the stairs, into possibly even more chaos.

* * *

"Okay." Bucky said firmly as Steve lay sprawled out on one of the couches, and Christy lay sprawled next to _him_. Natasha was busy pouring a drink in the kitchen. "What happened? Five-minute, condensed, 'mission report' version."

Steve groaned and thunked his head back dramatically. He was far too tired to try to hash things out tonight. "Shaddup, Barnes. I'll tell ya in the mornin'…it involved lots of metal robots and weird science…don't you listen to the news?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna head up to the lab, see if I can help out with anything."

Steve nodded. "That's…probably good. Tony needs a shrink."

Sam snorted. "You all need therapy. Just be glad you have me!"

"I am." Steve said, completely sincere.

Sam shook his head and walked towards the staircase just as another set of figures walked down.

"Where's Thor and Rhodes?" Clint asked, as Sam walked past them.

"They already cashed in the chips." Sam replied. He looked over at Wanda. "Is this…?"

Clint nodded. "Wanda, this is Sam Wilson. He's good friends with Cap and he helps us out from time to time. Sam, this is Wanda Maximoff."

Wanda couldn't help staring. Sokovia wasn't very ethnically diverse and she'd spent the last several years sequestered in a HYDRA lab…

With a jolt, she realized that Sam was giving her an amused smile. "I'm sorry." she said immediately. "Sorry…it's just…I haven't seen many people like you."

Sam's smile got wider. "S'alright. Can't say I've seen many people like you, either. It's not everybody that can manipulate stuff with their minds."

Wanda looked down. "I wish I couldn't. All it does is cause trouble."

"Then maybe you'll have to figure out a way to use it for good." Sam said simply. "Is your brother up there?" He pointed to the lab.

Wanda nodded.

"I'll watch him." Sam said gently. "You just try and take it easy, alright?"

Wanda nodded again as tears threatened to spill out of her eyes.

"Why is everyone being so nice?" she whispered. All it did was make her feel even guiltier.

Clint smirked softly. "'Cause we're the good guys." he said, as they stepped onto the Common Floor. "You want something to drink?"

Wanda shrugged. "I don't know."

"You need water at least. You're probably dehydrated." Clint decided.

"Enjoying 'dad mode'?" Natasha questioned, as they walked into the kitchen.

Clint rolled his eyes. "It's called being nice, Tasha."

"'Dad mode'?" Wanda asked, her face scrunching up in confusion.

Natasha shot Clint a look. Clint sighed. "Oh, no, I'm done with keeping secrets after this whole mess. I've got a family." he explained. "My wife…two kids. Lila and Cooper."

Wanda nodded slowly, guilt eating at her even more.

 _I tried to hurt him, kill him. I could have made two children orphans…_

But a worse shock was yet to come.

"Dad? Who's that?"

Steve looked over in the direction Christy was pointing, and bit back a groan.

 _Let's see how this goes down_ …

Wanda's head whipped over at the word 'dad'. On a couch in the main part of room, the Captain lay, looking nearly half asleep. It was almost hard to recognize him outside of his tell-tale uniform.

Next to him was a brown-haired man with a strange-looking arm and a tall girl with long blonde hair who very closely resembled…

Wanda almost fell over.

 _He has a_ _ **child**_ _?!_

Suddenly, the strange pocket of memories in the Captain's mind that she'd been unable to mess with made sense.

 _Of course! He was protecting her…_

Steve stood up and shook himself awake. Sleep would have to wait for a bit.

Wanda walked out of the kitchen and over to the couch.

Christy was standing next to her dad and concentrating so hard that she barely heard him say:

"Christy, this is Wanda Maximoff. She's gonna be fighting with the Avengers. Wanda…this is my daughter."

The two girls looked each other up and down, both equally curious about the other.

Christy's brain was spinning a hundred miles a minute. Compassion battled with fear and wariness.

 _She looks okay…and really tired…and sad…but she messed with Dad and everybody else…and she was with Ultron…and HYDRA! What if she tries to use her powers again? What if she's reading my mind right now, and makes me see something bad…?_

Wanda blinked slowly and tried to avoid the rush of brain activity that was seeping into her own head.

She didn't normally read people's minds unless it was training or she was with Pietro. But sometimes, if a person was thinking with enough emotion, the thoughts would spill into her mind, like one might overhear another's conversation if that person was speaking loud enough.

Later, Wanda would think back and kick herself for what she did. But with the deluge of emotion rolling off of Christy, replying mentally happened without a second thought.

 _"_ _Are you scared of me? "_ she projected into Christy's mind. _" You don't have to be."_

Christy _screamed_ and jumped in front of Steve and Bucky.

"Get out of my head! Get out of my head, get out of my head, _get away from my uncle_ and get away from my dad and get out of my **_head_**."

A tiny fist shot out into Wanda's stomach. She stumbled back and would have fallen if Steve hadn't reached out and caught her on reflex.

As soon as she threw the punch, Christy drew back in shock, her eyes wide with horror. The room went dead silent.

Christy spun around and fled into the elevator.

"Christy, no…" Steve raced over at top speed but the door closed before he could stop it. " _Dammit_." he hissed. "That was _not_ supposed to happen…" He glanced at Wanda, who had sat down on the couch. "I'm so sorry…"

Bucky waved his hand in Steve's general direction. "Go get your kid, we'll handle this."

Steve nodded and got on the elevator. Clint came over with a glass of water; Natasha followed in his wake.

"Move back, boys." Natasha said firmly. She sat down next to Wanda. "Can I see your stomach?" she asked, managing to use a calm tone, despite her exhausted state.

Wanda moved her shirt up. The skin underneath was faintly red and would probably bruise.

Natasha sighed. "I taught that kid to punch good…" she muttered. "Somebody wanna get me an ice pack?"

"On it." Clint replied, setting the water down on the coffee table. "Drink that." he added, to Wanda.

Wanda, however, did not look in the shape to drink anything. Her eyes were expanded out with fear and pain and anxiety; not to mention _complete and utter exhaustion_.

"This is all my fault." she choked out, sounding a heartbeat away from tears. "I can't believe I did that…that was so _stupid_!"

"Did you actually read her mind?" Clint asked, coming back with an ice pack and handing it to Natasha, who settled it over Wanda's stomach.

Wanda's breathing started to sound more like hyperventilating. "I…I…she thought so loud! I could hear everything, so I thought back and she screamed and…"

 _Now they'll hate me forever!_

Natasha gripped her hand. "Breathe." she said firmly. "In and out. Do it with me. In…out…in…out…"

Wanda copied Natasha's breaths with a few shaky ones of her own.

"That's better. Keep doing that. It's fine. It was a misunderstanding. Everything will work out."

"It was bound to happen eventually." Bucky said quietly. "I mean, all she ever heard about any kind of mind manipulation was how badly it hurts people, so of course when someone tries it on her, she flips out. Not that you could have known that." he added hastily, as Wanda let out another tired shudder.

"We're all exhausted and not thinking straight." Clint said. "And these next few days are gonna be weird anyway. Like after D.C. times twenty."

Natasha groaned. "Speak for yourself. Some of us were _in_ D.C."

Wanda shifted the ice pack. "Who are you?" she asked softly, looking at Bucky.

Bucky's face morphed into a smile. "Well…that depends on who you ask. My name's James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky for short. Best friends since I-can't-even-remember with Steve Rogers. Like the good Captain, I've been…on ice, since 1944. Unlike him, my… _rest_ wasn't very pleasant."

"What happened?" Wanda asked. She was breathing less erratically, interested in the story.

Bucky sighed. "Does the name 'Winter Soldier' mean anything to you?"

Wanda's mild state of calm was shattered in an instant.

"Yes…" she breathed out. "The Fist of HYDRA…the one who would help bring order…" she trailed off, remembering the 'lessons' she'd learned in the HYDRA base.

Bucky smiled sardonically and dipped his head in a mocking bow. "Guilty as charged, ma'am."

"That was _you_?!" Wanda felt like the bottom of her stomach had fallen out. " _You_?!"

"In 1944, we were on a train in the Alps: me, Steve, our team. We were called the Howling Commandos. The mountains were high, it was snowing and cold and the train was slick…I fell. I thought I died. But the Russians found me, and they had other ideas. _HYDRA_ had other ideas. Next thing I knew, I woke up strapped to a metal cot with a new arm…" He shook his head. "They took my memories… _buried_ my memories, more accurately, 'cause I've managed to grab back most of them. They made me into the deadliest assassin the world had ever seen…until D.C."

Wanda sat, still as stone. "They said you disappeared…" she whispered almost inaudibly. "Some thought you were dead. But no one wanted to retrieve you if you weren't."

Bucky nodded. "Well, their loss. But no one's 'retrieving' me…not anymore."

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Wanda.

"She…she thought I would hurt you like that again! That's why she said…" she trailed off, a look of dismay on her face. "I wouldn't do that!"

"Do what?" Bucky asked, puzzled. Clint snapped his fingers.

"The kid, she jumped in front of you and said 'get away from my uncle'. She must have been afraid…"

"Oh…" Bucky thought about that and nodded slowly. "That would make sense." He sighed heavily. "That would make a lot of sense."

"But I would never…please, I wouldn't!" Wanda cried. "I don't even think I _can_ do that! I can't erase…I can't! I won't!" She started shaking almost uncontrollably as all the emotion of the past day or so seemed to catch up to her in one fell swoop.

"Hey…" Bucky reached out and placed his hand on Wanda's shoulder. "I believe you. It's gonna be fine. You…made a mistake. She panicked. Everything's gonna be fine…"

 _I hope…_

* * *

Steve stood in the elevator, his mind whirling on overdrive.

 _Christy…why?! Why in the world? What happened?_

He breathed out slowly and tried to think rationally (no easy feat).

Wanda must have done something inside Christy's head. Maybe said something. It couldn't have been anything too terrible…

 _Right?_

But it was terrible enough to scare her. Really scare her.

The elevator opened on his floor. He took another deep breath.

 _Easy, Rogers. You can't go charging in like a warhorse_ , Sam's voice sounded in his mind.

The memory was almost enough to make Steve smile.

Slowly, he walked into Christy's room. It looked empty, which caused his heart to momentarily stop…

And then, the closet sniffled.

Steve immediately turned to face the sound.

"Christy?" he called out softly. "Why are you in the closet?"

The reply was more sniffles.

"Can you come out?"

There was silence, and then a shuffling sound as Christy came stumbling out. Her face was red and blotchy and her eyes were horribly bloodshot.

Steve sighed and sat down on the bed. "C'mere."

Christy sat down next to him and shuddered.

"Baby…you and I both know that you don't punch people for no good reason." Christy's face screwed up and silent tears rolled down her cheeks. "Did she hurt you?"

Christy shook her head wildly and Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

"N-no…b-b-but she t-talked in m-my h-h-head…"

"So what did she say?"

"S-she s-said I d-didn't haveta be scared of her…but Daddy, I am!" At that, Christy really started crying, her body shaking like it was electrified.

Steve just stayed quiet and held her; even though everything within him hated to see Christy cry, he knew it was sometimes necessary.

"I…I'm scared." she whispered, once she calmed down. "She hurt you and I didn't want her to hurt Uncle Bucky…"

Realization slammed into Steve like a freight train. "Oh…you thought…oh, baby, nothing like what happened to Bucky happened to any of us! It was upsetting, but nothing disappeared! I don't even think her powers work like that…"

Christy shook her head. "Okay, but she still…what if she does it again?"

Steve let out a long sigh and tried to analyze exactly what was going on here. Christy was usually the first one to push for second chances, so he couldn't think what was making her so antagonistic…

"What are you scared of?" he said finally.

Instantly, Christy's eyes welled up with tears. She leaned forward and fell almost headlong into Steve's chest. "I dreamed that you died. Like mom. And then I was alone again. And I know reading people's minds and messing with memories doesn't kill them, but…it was scary this time. I thought the Tower was safe, and then Ultron attacked. And I thought…what if you died?"

And suddenly, everything made sense. This wasn't really about Wanda's powers, although Steve didn't doubt that what happened had scared Christy.

This was about her powers representing a threat to him. About everything that had _happened_ representing a threat to him.

And, by extension, to her.

"Christy. Look at me." He placed his fist under her chin and propped it up gently. "I can't promise that nothing will ever happen to me. I can't even promise that I won't die. I'd love to…but I can't." He sighed shakily. "I can't. But I can promise that you will never be alone again. I've made more than one back-up plan to make sure that no matter what, you _will_ have someone to take care of you. Is that fair?"

Christy slowly started to nod. "I-it's fair."

"Good." He sighed again. "I know it's not the best of promises…but I also don't want you to be afraid. I've been told I'm stubborn. And I told _you_ that as far as it depended on me, I would always come back to you." He smiled. "How easy do you think I am to kill?"

Christy gave a half-smile. "Not very easy."

"Exactly."

Christy looked down and the floor and frowned. "Dad? I…I wanna go apologize. I didn't mean to hit her, but I just panicked, and…yeah. I'm really sorry."

Steve nodded. "I know you are. Do you wanna go take care of that now?"

Christy nodded firmly. "I gotta do it now, or else I can't sleep."

Steve smiled. "Now _that's_ my girl."

* * *

It was getting late. Wanda had finally calmed down enough to drink some water while the other three discussed sleeping arrangements.

"You gonna come on my floor, Tasha?" Clint asked.

Natasha nodded. After everything that had happened, she didn't exactly relish being alone. "Yeah…I think so. Do you have an extra bed?"

"I'll sleep on the couch."

Natasha smirked. "Such a gentleman…"

"If we re-arrange everything, we should have enough room…" Bucky started, as the elevator opened and Steve and Christy walked out.

Christy stood in front of where Wanda was sitting on the couch and took a deep breath. "I…I'm sorry I hit you. I panicked, but that doesn't mean it was okay."

Wanda shook her head. "It's fine…it was my fault."

Christy frowned and shook her head back. "It's not fine and it still wasn't right."

"Then…it is forgiven. But it was still my fault."

Christy started to say, "We both screwed up," but the sentence was interrupted by a huge yawn.

"Okay, bedtime for not-so-small children." Steve said firmly.

"And all Avengers." Bucky added, just as resolutely.

Clint nodded. "We'll get this mess sorted out in the morning; everything always looks better in the morning anyway."

"I'll second that." Natasha said. She glanced at Wanda. "You don't have any extra clothes, do you?

Wanda shook her head mutely.

"I'll loan you something to sleep in; we'll have to remedy that eventually."

"Where do you wanna sleep?" Clint asked.

Wanda shrugged. "I don't care." she whispered, as they all stepped into the elevator. All she wanted at this point was something vaguely resembling a bed.

"Our floor's got more room…" Steve offered. Wanda nodded slightly.

"If you don't mind. I can sleep on the floor."

"You get my bed before you sleep on the floor." Christy said, real fire seeping into her voice. "Nobody sleeps on the floor in my house, unless it's a sleepover!"

Bucky rolled his eyes. " _Your_ house, huh?"

Steve shook his head. "We have enough beds if we re-arrange stuff."

Wanda could feel herself leaning over, and quickly jumped back to a standing position as she realized that she'd started to fall asleep on Bucky's shoulder, the way she would do to Pietro sometimes.

Bucky smiled. "No problem." his voice dropped low and faintly sad. "I had sisters, once upon a time. People falling asleep on me is nothing new."

Too worn out to really respond, Wanda settled for another nod.

But the feeling was back, the one that she'd felt in South Korea, soon after they'd broken off from Ultron.

The feeling that she really had been completely wrong about these people who called themselves The Avengers.

But maybe that was okay.

* * *

 **When I first saw AoU, I had the distinct feeling that Christy would be less than impressed with Wanda's misuse of powers (ha, a pun). This was what came of that thought. The two of them will be having a slightly extended conversation next chapter.**

 **A lot of people will be having conversations next chapter...because, let's face it, after AoU, everyone just needs a giant therapy session. Pietro will also wake up. (I look forward to writing him...).**

 **Next update may come this weekend or this coming Monday. I'm not sure what my weekend looks like, and these next couple chapters are going to be fairly long and heavy to write. And I have, y'know, school and real life, too...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	13. Debrief, Part One

**Author's Note: Back, _finally_. Cursed exams...no, that's an exaggeration, I haven't even _had_ any exams yet. Just real life intruding on my writing time, as usual. But I finished the chapter!**

 **Since Sokovia isn't an actual country (no, really?) I'm making "Sokovian" be Serbian, since I read somewhere that the signs in "Sokovia" (in AoU) were in Serbian. But I'm also having it that the twins know some Russian, and maybe even a little bit of German.**

 **All usual statements and pleas apply: reviews are great! I like feedback! I like knowing what people think about each chapter! So tell me! With words!  
**

 **With that out of the way, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Debrief, Part One

Wanda woke up to a strange, disoriented feeling in the pit of her stomach (and also a more physical ache in the same area). She was lying on an unfamiliar bed—unfamiliar because it was probably the most comfortable surface she had lain on for quite a while.

A large amount of _blue_ was clouding her vision, so she opened her eyes more fully and took in her surroundings.

It was morning, judging by the sun streaming through the window blinds. She was in a medium-sized (though it seemed _huge_ to her) bedroom that contained a desk, bookshelf, pile of toys, closet, and the bed she was sleeping on. The bedroom walls were each painted in a different color: blue, green, purple, and red.

Clearly, whoever lived in this room was well looked after. And well loved.

 _Where am I…?_

Suddenly, the memories of last night filled her head. She smiled ruefully.

 _So that's why my stomach hurts._

The room was peaceful but quiet, so quiet that it was giving her the creeps. Quiet had never meant anything good at the HYDRA base. So she rolled out of the bed and walked over to the door.

She was wearing a black tank top and a pair of gray sweatpants that she vaguely remembered putting on last night. They were from Black Widow—no, _Natasha_. She was going to have to start calling them all by their names, at least in her head.

It was the least she could do, after everything.

She pushed open the door and looked down a short hallway, into a big space that was a kitchen, eating area, and living room all combined.

A small figure sat on the couch, bundled up in a blanket, but the apartment seemed otherwise deserted.

Wanda sighed. _I might as well face things now._ She walked out of the bedroom and called out quietly, "H-hello?"

A blonde head shot up from where it had been bent over a book. "Oh! Hi. Uh… _d-dobrey utra_ …?"

The sound of Russian made Wanda start. Then, she smiled. "Was that a question or a statement?"

Christy gave her a lopsided smile. "Depends. Did I say it right?"

"Very right."

"Then it's a statement. _Doborey utro._ Good morning."

" _Doborey utro_." Wanda echoed back. She gestured to the couch. "May I…?"

Christy nodded and moved over to give her more room. It wasn't strictly necessary—the couch was a newer one that could seat Steve, Bucky, _and_ Sam comfortably all at one time—but it was a nice gesture.

"So…you know Russian?" Wanda asked.

Christy shrugged. "Basic. Enough to maybe not die if I ever got lost in Russia. Aunt Tasha taught me some stuff."

 _Tasha…_ The nickname threw Wanda for a loop, until she managed to match it up to the red-haired ex-assassin.

She nodded. "Where is everyone?" she asked.

"They all went on a run; Dad, Sam, and Uncle Bucky. They should be back soon. Everybody else…" Christy shrugged again, dramatically. "…Beats me. Probably asleep or never went to sleep, if we're talking about Uncle Tony. Do you want coffee or something?"

Wanda blinked at the subject change. And then smiled, almost conspiratorially. "A secret? I have _never_ liked coffee."

Christy grinned. "Me _neither_ , it's _disgusting_! I don't understand why grown-ups love it so much! It's too bitter. So, uh…we have tea. And hot chocolate. And…does your stomach still hurt?"

The last was said so quietly, that Wanda almost missed it. But she caught it at the last second. "No…not really. It aches, but…it's not the worst pain I've ever had."

"I really am sorry I hit you." Christy mumbled, looking down at her hands. "I just panicked. It was kinda scary."

"And I was stupid." Wanda admitted. "Stupid and tired, which is a bad combination. I didn't want to scare you."

Christy stared at Wanda like she wanted to say something, but couldn't figure out the right way to do it.

"You seem nice." she whispered finally, "So what'd ya hurt my daddy for? And my aunt, and my uncles? What did they ever do to you?"

"Nothing." Wanda said truthfully. She'd finally come to the conclusion (probably too late) that even if Stark bombs had killed her parents, it was highly unlikely Stark himself had personally dropped them. As for the others…

 _Guilty by association. In other words, guilty because I wanted people to blame._

"Then _why_?" Christy asked. "My dad…he almost cried because of the memories. Aunt Tasha and Uncle Bruce looked like they'd gotten hit with a freight train! How come…?"

"Because I didn't know!" Wanda cried. "I knew nothing! I thought it would be best for the world if the Avengers were not here. How was I supposed to know any of them had children? How was I supposed to know _anything_? My parents died in front of my face, when I was ten years old. All I wanted was a chance for revenge! But I…"

Christy looked completely confused. "But how does hurting the Avengers make up for…?"

"The bomb said 'Stark'!" The words exploded out of Wanda before she could even think.

The effect was instantaneous. Christy's eyes flew open wide.

"The bomb…it was a…it didn't explode. My brother and I were trapped, and all I could see was that name written on the side…"

Christy was breathing in short, shallow inhales. Wanda noticed, and immediately felt panicked.

 _Congratulations, Maximoff, you succeeded in frightening a little girl for the second time in less than a day! An obviously loved and favored little girl who belongs to someone in a group that you're trying to not get kicked out of!_

The panic must have shown up on her face, because Christy started breathing more normally. "I'm okay…I'm okay. It's fine."

Wanda sighed. "Again. Not your fault. All mine. I shouldn't have yelled."

"Sam says that sometimes people yell things because nobody ever listened when they said it normally." Christy moved a few inches closer and put her hand on Wanda's arm. "I'm sorry your parents died. My…my mom died when I was seven. And my birth dad died when I was, like, three."

Wanda could feel her face re-arrange itself into a look of shock.

Somehow, in all the chaos of finding out that another of the Avengers had a child, she'd never stopped to consider how he would have _obtained_ said child.

"I got adopted, so…not so bad. But I miss her sometimes, still. Not my birth dad so much, cause I don't really remember him. But my mom...yeah."

"I…I didn't know."

Christy shrugged. "Didn't expect you to. But it's just…I get it. I get being alone. And I don't wanna be like that again. I got adopted and I love my dad more than anyone in the world. So I don't appreciate people messing with him. Or my uncle." Her tone of voice made it clear exactly _which_ uncle she was referring to.

"I understand." Wanda said, almost inaudibly. "I wasn't…I didn't know."

 _I didn't know anything…_

The front door suddenly swung open and three panting figures tromped into the apartment.

Christy took one glance at the trio and gleefully cried out, "Sam! On your left! And right…"

Sam leveled a look at Christy…and then proceeded to walk forward like he was passing into the back hallway. Instead, he grabbed Christy and attempted to tuck her under his arm.

It went over badly. Christy had a skinny build, but it was a _solid_ , skinny build with lots of muscle.

"Ah! Rogers! Get over here and grab your kid! She's heavy!"

Steve laughingly complied and swooped Christy up and onto the ground. "Revenge not working out so well?"

Sam groaned and massaged his arm exaggeratedly. "I'm gonna pay for that one tomorrow."

Bucky, smirking, sat down on the couch. "Did you sleep alright?" he asked Wanda. "You seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly."

Wanda nodded. "Yes…was I in her room?" she pointed at Christy with her head.

"Yeah. She wanted to bunk with Steve last night. Worked out better, all things considered." He leaned in. "You all right…?"

Wanda sighed. "Just…realizing that I knew absolutely nothing. It's not a fun thing to realize."

Bucky gave her a sympathetic grin. "No, it's not. But…I promise that when you reach the bottom, the only way out is up."

"Wanda?"

Wanda turned her head to face Steve. "Y-yes?"

The man smiled. "You look a lot better than yesterday. Wanna eat something, and then go see your brother?"

Wanda nodded slowly.

"Yes, please. I eat…where?"

Steve gestured around the room. "Right here, if you want."

"That means 'please do it or I'll give you puppy-dog eyes'." Bucky stage-whispered.

"Dad makes really good eggs." Christy added. "And I make good waffles."

Wanda smiled a little. "Okay. If you want…I will."

"We want it." Steve assured her. But Wanda heard the unspoken sentiment.

 _We want_ _ **you**_.

* * *

Steve walked up the stairs into the lab, where Tony sat hunched over a sleek, metal workbench; tinkering with something on one of his suits. "How's the Maximoff kid?" he asked.

"He's fine. Stable. Still hasn't woken up." Tony replied, not looking up from his project. "Wanda's in with him now."

Steve nodded. "I was talking to her earlier, actually. She told me something interesting."

Tony paused for about half a second, and then resumed movement. "Yeah?"

"Alright, Stark. Let's have it."

"Have what? Did Rhodey send you up here to bother me? Because I told him I already slept…"

Steve let out a gigantic sigh. "No, this one's all me. We need to talk, Tony."

It was the use of his first name that made the billionaire straighten up and pay attention.

"Alright, what's got your star-spangled panties all in a knot?"

Steve managed to keep his poker face as he replied, "First of all, I wear boxers. Second…" he trailed off, trying to find a kind way to phrase what he was thinking. Unfortunately, he wasn't finding one. So he settled for blunt words in a kind tone.

"Wanda told me she messed with your head at that first base, when we took the Staff. Right after we got the Staff back, you decide to make Ultron…"

"You can't put those two things together! I had the idea for Ultron long before…"

"Yeah, but you'd abandoned it, right?" Steve wasn't entirely sure of the veracity of that statement, but Tony's mildly guilty face told him that he had hit on something. "Tony…I'm asking you, what did you see in that vision? What did she show you?"

Tony was silent for a moment. Then, he asked, "Why? Why do you care?"

Steve sighed. "Do you want the 'team leader' answer or the 'Steve Rogers' answer?"

Tony frowned. "Both." he said, sounding not unlike a child.

"The 'team leader' answer is that I need to know so I can try to piece together what started this whole mess. I need information. The 'Steve Rogers' answer is…I care about you, Tony. I know we've both acted like asses to each other in the past…"

"Language…" Tony muttered. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Point is, I wanna know what happened because I'm your friend. I wanna understand…"

More silence. For a while, Steve thought Tony was just going to ignore the question.

And then…a quiet voice sounded, a voice that sounded nothing like Tony Stark.

"You…you were dead. The whole team was dead. Surrounded by pieces of the Chitauri. And I knew…I knew it was all my fault. You guys died because I did something stupid, _again_. And you grabbed me and said that I could have saved you…asked why I didn't and…yeah. That's what I saw. Almost everyone I care about lying dead because Tony Stark can't stop screwing up for five seconds…"

"She was baiting you…" Steve whispered, everything suddenly making horrible sense. "She was drawing on your fear, trying to get you to overreach…"

Tony laughed humorlessly. "Yeah…kinda obvious now."

"She hit you before any of us knew anything about her powers." Steve said firmly. "It wasn't your fault. But why didn't you…?"

"Tell anyone?" Tony snorted. "C'mon, Rogers, I'm not really the 'bare your soul' type. More of the 'laugh it off and drown in alcohol' type."

"Because that's worked out _so_ well." Steve muttered, not exactly sarcastic. More chidingly.

Tony shrugged. "Maybe not."

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

"Do about what?"

"Bruce isn't here." Steve elaborated gently. "I know you talked to him a lot, don't even try to pretend you didn't. But now what? Are you gonna care about yourself, now that someone isn't as close at hand to notice when you're taking things too far?"

Tony _hmphed_. "I'll be fine. I haven't died yet. And who would I talk to? You?"

" _Yes_!" Steve cried. "Or Rhodes, or Pepper, or Sam, the _trained counselor_! Or _the wall_! But for God's sake, don't bottle it all up! We all know how badly that works out, for _anybody_!"

Tony mumbled something vague and incoherent.

"We're your team, Tony. We actually care about you!"

"Yeah, well…alright. Fine. I promise not to create anymore megalomaniac AIs without warning you guys first."

Steve huffed. _That wasn't what I asked and he damn well knows it!_ "I know that. You're a genius; and geniuses definitely learn from their mistakes. Also…you know that I would never say that, right?"

"Say what?"

"Say that everything was your fault. You also _don't_ screw up every five seconds."

Tony blinked at the statement, as though he were waiting for a punchline. But Steve's sentence very clearly ended with those words. There was no taking anything back; no humor, no sarcasm.

"I'd also like to point out that the last time aliens invaded, you managed to save Manhattan from being leveled into the earth. And you're the one who figured out how to disarm that vibranium core in Sokovia. Even problems you make, you fix."

Again, this was all said completely straight-faced.

Tony tried to muster up a witty comeback…but suddenly couldn't think of anything beyond, "Thanks…"

Steve smiled gently. "You're welcome. So…" he gazed over at the metal suit. "What are you working on now?"

Tony started back with a visible jerk. "Since when are you interested in tech stuff?"

"Since my friend is." Steve said pointedly. He sat down in an empty rolling-chair and lay his crossed arms on the worktable.

Tony sighed in mock exasperation; though he couldn't quite keep the smile off of his face.

"Okay, but try to keep up, old man…"

* * *

Vision knew that he was being watched.

He was on what he had learned was called the 'Common Floor,' a spacious area with a lot of very interesting things. Wanda was sitting with Pietro and he didn't really need sleep, so he'd taken the opportunity to do a bit of exploring.

He wanted to know everything about this strange, new world…and the humans that populated it.

The sound of bone connecting with couch sounded through the Floor, along with a muffled yelp.

Vision shook his head. "I know you're back there." he said calmly. "You may as well show yourself."

A small figure rose unsteadily from behind one of the couches. "Darn. And I thought I was doing so well…"

Vision tilted his head to one side as he took in the person before him.

Wanda had mentioned something about the Captain having a child. And it was very clear whose child this was.

There were the obvious superficial similarities, but there were other things, too; like the penetrating gaze she was fixing on him, or the way she crossed her arms.

Christy uncrossed her arms and sighed. "I may as well get _one_ introduction right. Hello, I'm Christy Rogers. Captain America happens to be my dad. And you are…?"

Vision smiled. "I'm…not too sure about that, yet. But you may call me Vision."

Christy nodded. "Okay…" She kept staring, trying to process the idea of something that was basically Jarvis with a humanoid body.

 _This is like Star Wars. Only weirder…_

"Uh…y-you don't have to answer this, but…what exactly _are_ you? 'Cause Dad said Uncle Tony took Jarvis and a body that Ultron tried to use and combined it with the mind stone somehow, but I don't…" she groaned in frustration. "I miss when the weirdest thing I had to understand was that my dad was born in 1918!"

Vision felt something warm bubble up inside him and a strange, high sound flowed out of his throat. His computerized 'brain' quickly identified it as laughter—sounds produced due to joy or amusement, or occasionally embarrassment.

 _Interesting…I suppose it would be amusement for this…_

"I…am not human." he said. "Shall we begin with that?"

Christy nodded again. "Yeah…that's obvious."

"I am also not Jarvis. Or Ultron. I'm…something else entirely different. And I'm not quite sure what I'm for or what I can do. Everything is…new. But I know that…how did I put it? I am on the side of life. And I will do whatever it takes to preserve and protect life."

"Oh…" Christy looked speculative. "Am I the first kid you've ever talked to?"

Vision started. "Yes…I suppose you would be."

Christy grinned. "Cool. I…I think I like you."

Vision felt that same warm feeling fill his insides again. "I…the feeling is mutual."

"Can…can I touch you? I've never felt anything made of vibranium except Dad's shield before. And you look…smoother. Less beat-up."

Vision nodded permission. Christy inched forward and gently placed two fingers on the android's lower arm.

"It _is_ smooth!" she crowed. "And pretty. I like the colors. But you might wanna disguise yourself if you go outside. Or not. It's just…sometimes people think different means bad or scary." She grinned self-consciously. "Even me sometimes."

"Are you afraid of me?" Vision questioned.

Christy tipped her head to the side. "No. Not really. But I'm used to weird." she gestured around the Floor. "I live with a bunch of superheroes. Oh! Uh…can you read minds?"

Vision frowned. Wanda had mentioned an certain earlier altercation… "I…believe I am capable of it. Because of the mind stone, you see? But I would never abuse that ability or read the mind of someone who did not wish it."

Christy nodded. "Okay. That makes sense. It's just…it's kind of a scary thing. Mind reading. It hurts people I care about and I don't want it to happen to me."

Vision nodded. "Perhaps one day you may see the benefits of such a skill, in the correct hands. Until then, you have my word, I will go nowhere near your mind."

"Deal." Christy said quietly. "So…were you doing anything?"

Vision blinked. "Ah…not exactly. Just…looking around a bit more thoroughly than the last time I was here. Why?"

"Well…I could show you around if you want?" Christy spread her hands. "I know all the good places to look."

"That would be kind. Thank you…"

Christy beamed and grabbed his hand. "Okay. I'll show you the training room first…"

* * *

Wanda glared into the spacious metal fridge in the Common Floor kitchen.

 _It shouldn't be this hard! It's just_ _ **food**_ _!_

She had been in the Tower for almost two days and had breezily assured everyone that she was capable of getting her own meals, at least at lunchtime.

Apparently not.

Maybe it was the fact that she didn't recognize most of the food, or its packaging. Or that everything was written in English. Or that she hadn't lived in a house since she was ten years old.

Or that Pietro still hadn't woken up…

Whatever it was, the full fridge and pantry, along with various cooking devices, filled Wanda with a strong sense of panic.

 _I can do this…I can do this…just find something you recognize…_

Suddenly, the elevator door chimed open behind her. Assuming someone was checking up on her, she grabbed hold of the most likely name and called out:

"I'm alright, Clint! You can leave me alone!"

The sound of footsteps drew closer. "Well, I'll be sure to pass that message along to Barton, but in the meantime, do you need any assistance?" a deep voice asked.

Wanda spun around to find none other than Thor standing on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Ah…ah…" she sputtered inelegantly. "I thought you were Clint."

Thor smiled. "I gathered as much. But are you all right? You sounded as though you were quite frustrated…"

Wanda waved her hand. "It's nothing. Only…" she lowered her voice. "I don't understand the food. It's…different."

Thor frowned and entered into the kitchen. "I understand that Midgardian… _Earth_ food can vary greatly between countries. Is there something here you recognize?"

"I…I haven't cooked anything for a long time." Wanda whispered. "I don't remember…"

"What was something you ate at home?" Thor asked gently. "With your family?"

"B-bread…" Wanda choked out.

"Well," Thor gestured to a loaf of bread on the counter. "I see we have some of that. What else? What else that doesn't necessarily have to be cooked?"

Wanda swallowed, cursing the tears that were springing into her eyes. "Cheese, jam, fruit, vegetables…" As she spoke, the panicky haze that seemed to have descended over her eyes started to dissipate. "I see all those things now…" she muttered. "I must be more tired than I realized. I apologize for bothering you."

Thor held back the urge to snort. Wanda's act might have fooled another, but he was used to dealing with _Loki_ , aka: the _king_ of avoiding help.

"It has been a long ordeal for all of us." he said firmly. "But you none the least. It is not easy to have your entire world turned upside-down."

Wanda shrugged, and grabbed the loaf of bread. "Where are knives?" she asked shyly.

Thor found the correct drawer and opened it, making sure Wanda could see it. He pulled out a bread knife and handed it over, handle first (Bruce had drummed that one into him).

"Thank you…" Wanda took the knife and cut a few thick slices off the loaf. She took a bite of one and nodded. "Very good. Not the same as home, but…still good."

Thor nodded. "Nothing is ever quite the same. But you adjust. Eventually."

"Yes. I hope so. I, uh…" Wanda trailed off. "I am sorry for what I did to you. In Wakanda. I have been apologizing to everyone, as much as I can. I was…wrong."

Thor smiled. "It is only the brave who admit that they were wrong. You're forgiven. Now…" he gestured toward the fridge. "You say something you would like. I will find it, if possible."

Wanda started to protest, but Thor blatantly ignored it, so she gave up. They had managed to pull together enough ingredients to make a sandwich, when suddenly, there came the sound of someone running down the lab staircase.

Natasha leaned over the side rail. "Hey, Wanda; someone wants to see you."

Wanda's eyes turned into giant chocolate saucers. She quickly dropped the piece of bread in her hand and dashed over to the stairs. "He is awake?"

"Awake and wondering where you are." Natasha affirmed. Wanda tore up the stairs like a lit fuse.

Thor smiled broadly, and slapped the ingredients they'd decided on between two pieces of bread. He then wrapped the sandwich in a paper towel. "She will be hungry later."

Natasha smirked. "So much for the big, scary warrior image."

Thor shook his head as he walked over to the staircase. "My fighting prowess is not damaged by being kind. I had to learn that the hard way."

Natasha nodded. "Touché." The two of them walked up into the lab.

As soon as she reached the lab, Wanda's eyes flitted everywhere, trying to remember where…

And then she saw him.

Pietro was sitting up on a medical cot, slumped against the wall, but very much breathing…

"Pietro!" she screamed.

That familiar bleached-blond head moved up immediately at her voice. " _Ej, sestrica_." he mumbled. His voice was rough and garbled, but his smile was the same: cocky as all get-out. "What, you didn't see this coming?"

Wanda skidded to a halt beside the cot and hugged her brother as tightly as she dared. "I thought you were dead!"

"So did I…apparently not."

"Oh, oh…" Wanda sighed. "Never do that to me again, you understand me, Pietro? You could have left me alone…"

"Hey, I promise…" Pietro managed to raise his arm and pull it over her shoulder. "This isn't going to happen again. I promise."

For a long time, the two siblings simply sat and reveled in each others presence, after the longest amount of time they had ever been completely separated.

"What do you think of this place?" Pietro asked finally, quiet. "Is it good? You feel safe? Nobody is playing tricks?"

Wanda nodded, slowly. "I feel safe. Almost like…like it could be home one day."

Pietro breathed a long sigh of relief. He still carried a lot of the guilt for agreeing to get involved with HYDRA, of letting Strucker practically imprison them. True, they had both agreed to it, but he was older (even if only by twelve minutes). He should have known better.

The door to the tiny medical room cracked open and Clint stepped in. "Hey, doctor's orders. Kid needs to sleep."

"Who you callin' _kid_ , old man?" Pietro grumbled.

Clint smirked. " _You_. I'd bet I'm twenty years your senior, almost. You could be my kid."

"You already have kids." Wanda pointed out. Clint shrugged.

"What's two more?"

"He has kids?" Pietro asked.

"And so does the Captain." Wanda added. "Well, he only has one, but she's here in the Tower."

Pietro groaned. "You're telling me we were fighting people with _children_?"

Wanda nodded sadly. " _Da_ … _ništa nismo znali, brat_."

Pietro just sighed and slid down on the cot. "On second thought, maybe I will sleep."

Clint smiled. "I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told your sister. You fought with the rest of us—above and beyond what was expected of you." He shook his head. "And I'm more grateful than anybody. But like I said; you fought with us, that makes you an Avenger. We're a bunch of oddballs, no mistake, but somehow we manage to function. We're a family. And if you want in, well…"

"We attacked you…" Pietro pointed out, his voice sounding half-asleep.

"Half the people in this Tower have attacked each other at some point. And you're beat out for tragic backstories."

"Hmm…" Pietro mumbled. Wanda smiled.

"He is asleep, almost." she whispered.

Clint nodded. "Good. He needs the rest, to heal. Wanna stay in with him?"

"Yes, I will." Wanda smoothed Pietro's messy hair out of his face. "For a little while."

"Mind if I stick around too? Oh, and Thor said to give you this." Clint held out a very messy cheese, spinach, and tomato sandwich.

Wanda smiled and took the food. "No…I don't mind."

Everything was falling back to normal again. Pietro was awake.

Well, perhaps not normal. Nothing would ever go back to the way it had been.

But Wanda meant what she said. She felt safe here.

Maybe this crazy skyscraper, with its weird and wonderful inhabitants could become what she'd wished for since she was ten years old.

Maybe it could actually be home.

* * *

 **That's part one of my "debrief" chapters. Part two will be up soon-ish and will include more Pietro, a Clint and Natasha talk (about Bruce), Vision and Tony, and a seriously needed talk between Tony and the twins.  
**

 **Translations:**

 **"Doborey utro": "Good morning," Russian**

 **"Ej, sestrica": "Hey, little sister." Serbian.**

 **"Da…ništa nismo znali, brat.": "Yes...we knew nothing, brother." Serbian.  
**

 **(Except for the Russian, and the words for 'brother' and 'sister,' everything has dubious accuracy. If anyone knows Serbian, please feel free to correct me!)**

 **Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are wonderful things...**


	14. Debrief, Part Two

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone; don't worry, I'm still alive! Finals week was long and I've been resting up since getting home and dealing with holiday mayhem. But I promised myself I'd get this chapter out today, and I have!**

 **As always, feedback is great, appreciated, and devoured by the starving author.**

 **Enjoy "Debrief, Part 2," aka: "the rest of the conversations that should have taken place after AoU"!**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Debrief, Part Two

Pietro was bored.

So, so, so terribly bored. And also hungry; a bad combination.

He was under 'doctor's orders' to rest, and he was trying; really he was! But staying still had always been a chore for him, even before his enhancements. Now it was borderline torture.

Wanda was out of his sickroom, for once. She hadn't wanted to leave, but Pietro had told her to go (and even then, Clint had practically dragged her out of the lab). He was fine enough and she needed to get out. Breathe some air.

What he hadn't counted on was getting hungry. He was being fed three meals a day, so there was no room to complain, but he had feeling that he was burning off the food faster than Dr. Cho was taking into account.

As best he could figure, his metabolism had been tampered with by HYDRA, which had the benefit of making him insanely fast. But there were other side effects that had been noted, but were rarely talked about.

Like the fact that he burned through calories like hummingbird.

Pietro groaned and tried to ignore the grumbling in his stomach. The doctor would be back in an hour, he could wait that long…

Suddenly, the door opened and a tall, blond figure walked into the room. It was the Captain.

Pietro rolled over. "H-hello." he stuttered, internally cursing at how weak he sounded. The man wasn't any danger; he'd been nothing but kind ever since they'd switched sides.

Still…

Steve smiled a bit. "How you feelin'? Better?"

Pietro nodded. "Better. I want to run. When can I get out of here?"

Almost immediately, he flinched back. One of the first things he had learned with HYDRA was to never question anyone with more authority than you. He'd still done it, of course, but it usually meant a punishment.

Steve noticed the flinch and frowned. But all he said was, "You can probably get up tomorrow, but you're still gonna have to take it easy for at least the rest of the month. So no running. But you'll get a change of scenery."

Suddenly, he looked down at the plastic bag he was carrying, as though he'd remembered something.

"I, uh, thought you might be hungry. Enhancements make you run through food like it's nothing. Here ya go."

He pulled out a sandwich and held it in Pietro's direction. The boy snatched the food and started to tear into it with huge bites.

Steve laughed. "Hey, hey; easy. You'll choke. There's more where that came from."

Pietro managed to slow down by a tiny fraction. Steve handed him another sandwich, as the first was already bitten down to the crust.

Three sandwiches and an apple later, Pietro's hunger was finally sated enough for him to stop wolfing down food and ask, "How did you know about the enhancements making me hungry?"

Steve shook his head and gestured to his extremely large bicep. "You think I was born with these muscles? Increased appetite was one of the first side effects I figured out, after increased strength and the fact that I could run without losing my breath."

Pietro looked a little shocked. "So…it was all true. About you, I mean. They said you were the first super soldier."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "HYDRA telling the truth? That's a first."

"They also said that _Zimniy Soldat_ was a better fighter than you."

"Who? Oh, the Winter Soldier." Steve smirked. "Debatable. Although he was a pretty scary opponent…for more than one reason." He sighed heavily. "Wanda told you about him, right?"

Pietro nodded. "He was your friend…and they took his memories. Made him forget."

"Yeah. Basically." Steve whispered shortly, his face turning dark.

Pietro cocked an eyebrow. "Well…I think HYDRA needs to find a new hobby."

Steve gave a puzzled smile. "Why?"

"He fights with you now, _da_? He is with the Avengers, with his friend. And me and Wanda, we left them. We're with their enemies now. HYDRA's plans, they always…" he frowned. "I don't know the English word. They…go back?"

"Backfire." Steve said, grinning. "Their plans _backfire_."

" _Da_! The, uh…the biography of HYDRA: 'It Backfires Again!' All they do is fail!"

Steve laughed at Pietro's exuberance. "You sound like my kid."

Pietro tipped his head to the side. "A good thing?"

"A very good thing." Steve assured. "You'll meet her later."

Pietro dropped his head. "Why are you doing this? Helping us, letting us stay here. We…we tried to _kill_ you. We fought with your enemies."

Steve sighed. "If I spent my life hating everyone who tried to kill me, I wouldn't have much time to do anything else. Besides, you're just a couple 'a kids."

"Twenty!" Pietro protested. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But that's still young compared to the rest of us. You were desperate and you got tricked by people, or… _things_ , that were making a career out of being liars. You didn't stand a chance. Trust me, I've been there. I'm just lucky the time I signed up to get pumped full of serum, the guy in charge was good."

"We should have known better." Pietro said quietly. "I should have known better."

Steve shrugged. "Well, you live and learn. And forgive yourself when you make mistakes. It's not easy, but…it's a lot better than the alternative." He checked his watch and started to stand up. "I'd better let you sleep some before Dr. Cho comes…"

"No!" Pietro cried, louder than he'd intended. "Please, I'm so bored!" he added pitifully.

Steve gave a laughing sigh. "Alright, alright…"

The door suddenly pushed open.

"You can help me with my homework." A voice said.

Steve rolled his eyes as Christy slipped into the room. "I know I taught you to knock. And how to introduce yourself."

Christy sighed and faced Pietro's bed. "Hi, I'm Christy. I live here."

Steve snorted. Pietro nodded, smirking.

"I'm Pietro. I…don't really live anywhere."

Christy frowned. "Yeah ya do. You live here. To stay. Because you and your sister are Avengers now." She shot Steve a look. " _Right_ , Dad?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, of course. Since when do I lie to you?"

"Never." Christy said emphatically. She turned back to Pietro. "My dad said that you and your sister live here now, and he never lies to me. So you're stayin'. Period. Understand?"

Pietro couldn't help laughing at the girl's stern tone. " _Da, ya ponimayu_." He managed to choke out, the Russian response coming automatically.

" _Khoroshow_." Christy replied, grinning.

Pietro _stared_ at her, and then sighed. "Of course she knows Russian. Little…" he watched as Christy artfully managed to move Steve's arm over her own shoulders and snuggle into his side.

The sight brought back a stinging feeling of grief.

"… _mače_." he said finally, a wicked grin spreading across his face. " _Malo mače_."

" _What_ did you just call me?" Christy asked.

" _Mače_." Pietro's grin widened. "Means kitten. You look like one."

"Oh. That's okay then. So, can you help me with my math homework?"

"Why should I help you do homework?"

"Because you said you were bored!"

Steve quietly slipped from the room as the bickering continued.

 _Oh, yeah…this is all going to work out. Definitely._

* * *

"Nat? I think you need to talk."

Clint had found his partner curled up in a blanket on the roof of the Tower, staring out at the city skyline like she would love to get lost in it.

Natasha hadn't responded to his comment, and he knew better than to tap her on the shoulder from behind, so he walked around into her line of sight and tried again. "Natasha."

"I heard you." Natasha said quietly.

Clint flopped down in front of her. "So talk. Or I will." He was quiet for a moment. "Do I need to find him and beat him up for you?"

There was no need to qualify who the 'him' was.

Natasha gave a harsh sigh. "No. I want to know…" she sighed again. "I'm supposed to be the Black Widow. The deadly assassin who knows every man's motive. But the one time I actually care to know what's going on in someone's head…I have no idea."

Clint chewed on his lip for a moment, thinking.

"Look." he said gently. "I'm not gonna pretend I know what's going on in Bruce's head or what made him go AWOL. But if I had a guess…I'd say he's still afraid of hurting you, deep down. He still wants to protect you. And right now, he thinks the best way to do that is to be somewhere else."

Natasha shook her head violently. "But doesn't he understand that I don't care? I _live_ danger! I _want_ …him. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed him off the ledge…"

"No, that was a good thing." Clint said firmly. "We needed the Hulk. I think he knew that running away was futile, in his head." He sighed. "He's just gonna have to learn that running away doesn't really ever solve anything. You have to face things eventually."

"Lately…I've been wondering if he'll come back."

"If he cares enough, he'll come back." Clint said firmly. "Otherwise I will hunt him down and beat the crap out of him. Brother's honor."

Natasha snorted. It had been a long-standing joke within SHIELD that the two of them were practically siblings (or secret lovers, for those who didn't know about Clint's family).

"Thanks, Clint." she said quietly, as the breeze whipped through her hair.

Clint nodded.

"That's what I'm here for." he said simply.

* * *

"Alright, go ahead and yell at me."

Wanda and Pietro looked up in shock from where they'd been sitting quietly on the Common Floor couch. None other than Tony Stark stood before them.

Pietro moved his body forward protectively, but Wanda managed to recover her voice first.

"Pardon?" she sputtered.

Tony spread his hands. "Look, you two clearly have some sort of grudge against me, so go ahead and spit it out, so I can stop dying of suspense."

"You killed our parents." Pietro said bluntly. He was never one to beat around the bush.

Now it was Tony's turn to be in shock. His brain was spinning.

 _Uh…uh…I'm pretty sure the only people I killed with the suit were terrorists and hostiles…and Stane…_

"Uh…when was this?" he managed to say.

"October 20, 2005." Wanda said immediately, her voice full of bitterness that had festered for years and years.

"That was before the suit…" Tony said in confusion. "I didn't have the capability to kill anyone personally before then…"

"Not you, your bombs." Pietro said impatiently. "We were ten years old, eating dinner with our parents. All of a sudden, the room started shaking. The building collapsed."

"Our parent died in the explosion." Wanda said roughly. "But we were trapped. It was days before anyone could get to us and right in front of our faces was a bomb. It didn't work, but we didn't know that. And painted on the front was your name. _Stark_."

Tony's face was as white as a sheet. "No…" he whispered. It felt like there was a physical pain in his gut, as everything started to make horrible sense.

"So you do remember." Pietro said, voice harsh.

Tony let out a bitter laugh. "Can't exactly remember something I wasn't involved with, now, can I? But I know who was."

"Are you saying you _weren't_ responsible for this?" Wanda cried, all her pent-up rage and grief rising to the surface.

"No, I am." Tony replied, a new seriousness in his voice. "I'm responsible because I didn't figure out until too late that my tech was being stolen and sold behind my back, by the guy I trusted more than my own father!"

"I don't believe you!" Wanda shouted. "You lie! It…it was your bombs!"

Very slowly, Tony tipped his head forward. "Go ahead and see for yourself."

The twins shared a brief look. Then, slowly, tentatively, Wanda allowed her mind to penetrate into Tony's.

She saw a brilliant but neglected boy; a lonely rich kid who never quite fit in. She saw his relationship with the man called Obadiah Stane, the relationship that he'd never been able to have with his actual father.

She saw the betrayal in the desert. The torture. The first Iron Man suit. The final confrontation between him and Stane.

Pulling out, she looked at Pietro. "He's telling the truth." She sent the images she'd seen through their shared mind connection. Pietro's face turned uncharacteristically solemn.

"Wrong, again." he said heavily. He turned to Tony. "Fine. You are telling the truth. But that doesn't bring us our parents back."

"No, you're right. It doesn't." Tony agreed. He let out a harsh sigh. "And it doesn't change the fact that I should have figured out sooner what Ob—Stane was up to." He snorted. "It's like identity theft."

The three of them stood there, unsure of what to say.

"For ten years, I thought you were responsible for my parent's deaths." Wanda said slowly. "That was why we agreed to be experimented on. We thought we could…do something. Get revenge. But now?"

"Now what the hell are we supposed to do?" Pietro asked exasperatedly.

Tony smirked. "Steve doesn't like that kind of talk."

"Steve's not here. The kid's not here." Pietro shot back.

"Ah, a rebel. My kind of kid." Tony said, his smirk growing wider.

"But what now?" Wanda said. "What should we say? 'We forgive you'? You didn't sell the bombs! But I'm not sure how I…"

Tony nodded. "Look, I'm not expecting us to all join hands and sing 'kumbaya'…" At the _very_ confused looks on both twins' faces, he clarified, "I mean, I'm not expecting you two to instantly like me just because you know my sad and tragic past. That would be ridiculous. But…could we maybe settle for not being enemies?"

The twins slowly nodded.

"Not being enemies sounds okay." Pietro said.

"I just…it's strange." Wanda whispered. "Wanting revenge for so long. That was our plan. Now…I don't know what to do."

Tony cocked his head. "Well…I've heard that the Avengers are hiring. Have you ever considered them? You two would make really good superheroes. Lots of chance for merchandising."

Pietro rolled his eyes and muttered something about capitalist Americans. Tony slyly inquired how the Soviet system of economics was working out. Wanda shook her head in exasperation.

Stark was right. Easy camaraderie between him and them was unrealistic right now. There were still too many old wounds to be sorted through, on both sides.

But maybe _peace_ wasn't such an impossible dream after all.

* * *

"Damn it…" Tony hissed, as the blood-red words _Program Jarvis 2.0 Failed to Integrate_ appeared in front of him for the umpteenth time.

A panicky tattoo started furiously beating away in his chest and the lab started to fade in and out as he realized that he might not be able to replicate Jarvis' original code well enough to get in past the firewalls in his system.

Which meant that Jarvis was well and truly gone for good.

He was starting to feel himself black out when a robotic, faintly familiar voice said, "Language."

Tony spun around in an ungainly fashion to see Vision standing behind him.

In _his_ lab.

 _Why does everyone always walk into my lab?!_

The android frowned at the disturbed look on Tony's face. "Sorry. I borrowed the phrase from Captain Rogers. I hope you don't mind…"

"Nah, nah, no problem." Tony said, trying to sound nonchalant, cool. Trying to sound normal.

And failing miserably.

Vision's gaze swept over the billionaire. "I believe you need to sit down, sir."

"I need a drink…" Tony muttered. "And don't 'sir' me; you already sound too much like Jarvis for my own sanity!"

"I apologize, sir….I apologize. It…slipped out. But if I may say, I think a drink is the last thing you need right now."

Tony gave an exhausted grin and flopped down on one of the lab's chairs. "Yeah, maybe. Sounds like Captain Boy Scout's already gotten to you." Suddenly, Vision's earlier sentence processed in his mind. "Wait, what'd'you mean, 'it slipped out'? I thought you weren't Jarvis."

Vision frowned a bit. "It's odd…I am _not_ Jarvis, but…I do have his matrix, correct?"

"Yeah…"

"So…I suppose some of his knowledge, some of his protocols were passed onto me. That would make sense. I know things about you that I could not have discovered merely from my databases. Information I don't possess about the other Avengers."

Tony's brow knit. "Like what?"

"Well…" Vision looked…embarrassed? "I know that if you spend more than 48 consecutive hours in your lab without rest that proper protocol is to save all work and shut down all power in the lab for at least 12 hours."

Tony looked gob smacked. Only Pepper and Bruce knew about that one. There was no way…

"You knew that?" he whispered. "You…then what's the Main Programming Protocol?"

A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that this was insane, that he was asking too much of Vision; the poor guy only got made a week or so ago…

"Main Protocol: _Asist Tony Stark_."

Like an echo from a not-too-distant past, the words rolled through Tony's brain.

Because that was it. At the heart of all Jarvis' programming, that had been the main thing. The main mission. _Asist Tony Stark_.

 _"_ _Because if you won't take assistance from people, maybe you'll take it from a machine!"_ Rhodey had said; half sarcastic and half serious.

Vision gestured towards the screen. "You have been trying to create Jarvis anew, yes?"

"The…the new code won't take." Tony muttered. "I have to replicate it exactly, otherwise it'll get shut out, like a virus. Which is great security, but…"

"I believe I can help you."

Tony stopped. "Wait, what?"

"The codes you need…I think I could provide that. I can at least try."

Tony's head was spinning. Hope and fear and shock coursed through his veins like the most potent drug ever because was it even _possible_ …?

"Why?" he managed. "Why would you care? About me, about Jarvis, about any of this?"

Vision sighed. "It's…complicated. I am rather like a mosaic that a child threw together in an attempt at creating a masterpiece. Meaning…I don't really know what I am or all that I can do. But I know that I am to be a defender of life. So I choose to help bring life back to Jarvis. And to you, Tony."

The use of his first name momentarily threw Tony for a loop. "Uh…okay. Thanks. I mean…thanks."

Vision smiled. "You are welcome. May I start now?"

"What? Oh, yeah; it's over here…"

* * *

It took several days of coding and checking and coding some more, but at last they were ready to load the program.

Tony desperately searched his brain for something to distract himself from the slowly escalating percentage numbers.

 _Program: Jarvis— 34% Integrated_

"So…what's it been like? Living, I mean?" he asked.

Vision frowned. "It was…scary at first. Thrilling, because I suddenly had so much power and knowledge and purpose…but scary. Everything was new. Everything is _still_ new. Humans are very strange."

Tony smirked. "I have to agree with you there, pal. We are weird."

 _Program: Jarvis—49% Integrated._

"And yet…there are no regrets. Confusion, definitely. But not regret. Life…it is indeed a privilege. So far, I'm grateful for it."

"Well, in case it hasn't been said…welcome to existence, Vizh."

Vision smiled. "Barton calls me that. What does it mean?"

"Uh, nothing really; it's just the first syllable of 'vision'. A nickname. Humans use them to indicate…that they like someone. Or sometimes that they don't. It can be a shortened form of a name, or another word completely that describes the person somehow."

 _Program: Jarvis—68% Integrated._

"I see. I have a lot to learn."

"Well, plenty of time to do it. Plenty of teachers, too."

The conversation drifted off as the numbers ticked higher and higher. Tony's breath became labored and his hands began to shake. "I'm fine." he muttered, at Vision's concerned look.

 _Program: Jarvis—100% Integrated._

"Jarvis?" Tony croaked out. "You there?"

There was dead silence for a moment. Tony actually thought he would pass out.

And then…

"Hello, sir."

* * *

 **Because I literally couldn't think of a better ending than that. Inksaber's story "Something Old, Something New" was my inspiration for the last two sections.  
**

 **As soon as I saw AoU and heard the twins' story about how a Stark bomb killed their parents, my first thought was, "But...didn't Obadiah Stane steal Tony's tech and sell it to bad people? Maybe Tony didn't even know!" And...that's where that idea came from.**

 **Translations:**

 **Da: Yes (Serbian/Russian)**

 **YA ponimayu: I understand (Russian)**

 **Khoroshow: Good (Russian)**

 **Malo mače/mače: Little kitten/kitten (Serbian, pronounced "mah-che")  
**

 **As usual, I hope you enjoyed. Next chapter should be up soon, sooner than this one was.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	15. Logistics

**Author's Note: Hello, again! I promised I'd get this chapter out quicker then the last one, and I did...by two days. Oh well, I got it done before Christmas, which was the important part. This isn't exactly a Christmas chapter, because I'm going chronologically with these one-shots, but the last part kinda makes it a Christmas chapter.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas and have a good holiday!**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Logistics

"The Avengers need a new base."

Steve let out a snort at Tony's out-of-the-blue comment. "Are you finally kicking us out of your Tower, Stark?"

It was late afternoon, nearly a week since the last battle with Ultron. The Common Floor was crowded, though also missing a couple key faces. Clint had gone home to his family and Bruce was, of course, still AWOL.

But the twins and Vision were there, along with Natasha, Rhodey, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Thor. And of course Christy, who was sitting against the wall reading, acting like she wasn't listening to the grown-up's conversation _at_ _all_ , thank you very much.

Rhodey shook his head. "No, no, he's not, because you people are close to the biggest reason he hasn't gone completely off the wall."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I'm not kicking anyone out. But you guys have gotta look at the facts. The team's getting bigger, more space is needed for training, sleeping, whatever. And this Tower, awesome as it is, was never designed to be a training base."

"That's true." Natasha agreed. "It's Hulk-proof, bullet-proof, and hammer-proof; but what about laser-proof?" She gestured at Vision. "Or…whatever shoots out of your hands, Wanda."

Wanda ducked her head shyly at the attention. "Not sure." she murmured. "Maybe energy."

"Strucker wasn't somebody who liked to share; that includes information." Pietro added.

Bucky nodded grimly. "Those types never are."

"Anyway," Tony continued, "you've gotta admit, a real training facility would be nice. SHIELD's base isn't what it used to be, and the sparring rooms aren't gonna cut it for long. Plus, there's the fact that we're kinda living in the middle of New York City. Which maybe _isn't_ the best place to start up a training base, if ya know what I mean."

"Security issues." Steve summarized. "That's also a good point. Everyone's a little on edge after what happened last week. I know you've got people to keep a handle on the press, Tony, but it'll be hard to deal with questions if…" He sighed. "So what do you have in mind?"

Tony scoffed. "Why would you think I had something in mind?"

"Because you're like Fury; you never just 'bring something up' without an idea already in your head."

Tony looked slightly taken aback. "I'm…not sure how I feel about that comparison. Uh. Okay. So, yeah, you're right, I kinda had this thought. Rhodey already knows, so…"

"It's not a bad idea." Rhodey finished. "It's actually pretty good."

Thor shrugged. "So say on."

"Okay. My old man had this warehouse Upstate that he used to store some of his excess tech; old files, prototypes…stuff he didn't really need or didn't want just anybody getting their hands on. But it was a pretty big warehouse, big enough to at least provide a starting point for something bigger. Like a base."

Steve nodded slowly. "That's…actually a really good idea."

Tony smirked. "I do have them on occasion."

"Just where _is_ this place Upstate?" Natasha asked.

Tony pulled out his tablet and drew up a map of New York. "It's right around…here." He zoomed in on a dingy, gray ware house surrounded by miles of trees. "Middle of nowhere."

"And about an hour out from Clint's place."

Steve grinned. "That'll be nice for him. And you."

"And the rest of you, though not all at once." Natasha said firmly. "I talked to Clint. Apparently Laura wants all of you back for visits. But again, don't come all at once or she'll charge rent. The kids want you back, too." She dropped her voice an octave and shot Steve a look. "They wanna see their _cousin_."

Steve nodded sagely. "Ah. Well then. I'm not gonna stand in the middle of that one."

Christy finally quit pretending to read and came over to where Steve was sitting. "Dad, are we moving?"

"Possibly…" Steve trailed off.

"But not for at least a month." Tony added. "Probably more. And I'll have to ask the eye patch if he wants some of his people in on this." He scoffed a bit. "Oh right, I mean, I'll ask _Coulson_. 'Cause Fury's totally not head of SHIELD at all, in any way, shape or form."

"You're just bitter about the whole Hill thing, aren't you?" Natasha snarked.

Tony's response was an inarticulate grumble.

"That means _yes_ , I believe." Vision said calmly.

Rhodey smirked. "He learns fast."

"His base matrix is Jarvis', of course he learns fast." Tony said, like a proud parent.

"Don't forget about the infinity stone." Thor added, just as proudly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Watch and learn." she hissed to Wanda. "You're about to see a staple of Tower life: the 'my thing is better than your thing' debate."

Wanda smiled.

"What do you think about moving?" Steve asked Christy quietly. The girl shrugged.

"Are you gonna leave me here again, like last time?"

Steve shook his head. "No…I don't think so. Not again. Things are too…it's not as simple as that anymore. We'll figure out what to do about your school and seeing your friends, but I want you with me."

Christy nodded. "Then I'll be okay. And I'll get to see Lila and Cooper more."

Steve reached out and gave her a sloppy, one-armed hug. "That's my girl."

* * *

Later that night, on his floor, Steve looked across the couch at Bucky and Sam. "So…what do you guys think about Stark's idea? Moving locations and all."

Sam shrugged. "He's right about the space issue. With three new members, and War Machine in for what looks like the long haul, that's a lot of people to put up. Even with Banner AWOL and Clint going home more…it'll be nice not to be all crammed in a city building. Besides, I'll be kinda glad to not be mooching off your space, Steve."

Steve started to shake his head in protest, but Sam cut him off. "I know you don't care, but we could all use some more room. At least, _I_ could, now that Wonder Boy over here is mostly in the camp of sanity. You two are used to living out of each other's pockets, though…"

Bucky finally spoke up. "Maybe part of the base could be set up more…house-style. I don't think I'd wanna be…too far away from anyone."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, having too much of my own space kinda lost its charm for me about a week after waking up. But I think it would be nice to get out of the city…" he glanced toward the window. "I've lived here all my life. A change of scenery might not be a bad idea."

Bucky gave Steve a shove. "Still dreamin' about that house with the white-picket fence?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind a house!" Steve protested.

"Thinkin' about retirement already?" Sam joked.

Steve sighed. "Nah, not retirement, really. Just…thinkin' about the future. And then not, because it gets too complicated."

"Hey, anyone who says they have a foolproof five-year plan is lying." Sam said firmly. "Just take it one day at a time. And when the time is right…you'll be ready for what comes next. We all will, hopefully."

"At least you can _draw_." Bucky said to Steve. "At least you can do something that doesn't involve fighting. What can I do? Punch? Lift stuff?"

"You always liked designing things." Steve argued. "Anything with mechanics, especially mechanics that moved, like cars or planes. That's why you dragged me to the Stark Expo that one time."

Bucky frowned. "I did?" He processed the thought for a moment and then nodded, slowly. "I did. Maybe I can…do something with that. Someday."

"Someday." Sam echoed softly.

 _Someday, we're all gonna turn our swords into plowshares. Unfortunately, I don't think it's gonna be today. Or any time soon..._

* * *

A few days later, Steve had managed to corral Wanda and Pietro on the Common Floor, along with Natasha for back-up. Because, as she'd put it:

 _"_ _If we're really training a whole new bunch of Avengers, then it's gonna be you and me in charge of this shindig. I might as well start stepping up now."_

"This feels like an interrogation." Pietro mumbled.

"You're not in trouble, I just wanted to discuss something." Steve assured, looking at Wanda specifically. She appeared extremely subdued, the way Bucky had looked (and still did sometimes) when he wasn't sure what was happening.

"She looks like she's about to kill someone." Pietro replied, jerking his head in Natasha's direction.

"I always look like I'm about to kill someone." Natasha said, deadpan. "It's my resting face."

"More like _a_ -resting."

Steve frowned and tried to process what he was seeing, what he could learn. Sam had gotten to him.

 _Wanda gets quiet when she's nervous; Pietro jokes around…_

"Neither of you are in trouble." he started again. "But I wanted to talk to you about getting some practical things. Clothes, bedding, furniture; that stuff."

Wanda shot Pietro a glance, and the blond nodded. "We have no money." he said, quiet.

"Yes, you do." Steve said gently. He'd had a feeling this would come up. "You got added onto SHIELD's payroll last week. And…you got a bit of an allowance for start-up. The money's sitting in an account now."

He didn't add that the "allowance" was a pool of money the other Avengers had all chipped into.

"We get paid?" Wanda asked. "For what? I've been doing nothing! Pietro was getting better, but me…"

"You two helped stop a psycho killer robot from destroying the world and killing all of humanity." Natasha said bluntly. "And one of you almost died doing it. That definitely deserves a paycheck. I got paid for missions _way_ more stupid than that."

"It's not charity." Steve added. "It's 'thank-you' money, if you wanna look at it that way."

Pietro nodded, and after a few seconds, Wanda followed suit.

 _"_ _I don't want to owe anyone anything… "_ Wanda shot into Pietro's mind. _"They might make us do something to pay them back…"_

 _"_ _They won't do that."_ Pietro thought back. " _You heard Steve. It's money we earned for fighting. If they want to pay us for that, I'm not complaining!"_

"It might be nice to get clothes." Wanda said softly.

"Yeah, no offense, but I'd like my sweats back." Natasha joked. More gently, she added, "And I'm sure you're sick of wearing the same three sets of clothes. Don't worry, we'll go somewhere where they don't ask questions."

"So…who is going?" Wanda asked. "Because we're fine by ourselves…"

"No." said Steve and Natasha, almost simultaneously.

"We're not children!" Pietro protested.

"It's not about that." Steve said firmly. "It's about the fact that shopping is overwhelming in general, and shopping in New York City is a holy terror. It's crowded and busy and…" he shook his head, nightmares of his first 'visit' to Times Square pulsing in his mind. "Just…please, trust us on this one."

The twins nodded. "Okay." Wanda murmured.

"And we'll get you two set up on a floor. Because I know for a _fact_ that you've been crashing on the Common Floor since Pietro got out of the sickroom."

Pietro looked down. "It has nice couches."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I _know_ it has nice couches, that's not the point. You two need your own floor."

"Clint also wants you guys to Skype him later." Natasha added. "He wants to see how you're doing."

Wanda actually smiled; shy and half-exasperated. But not really. It was…nice, having someone check on their welfare. Pietro rolled his eyes, but the gesture was also clearly fake.

"He likes being in dad-mode." Natasha said. "Let him have this."

Pietro shrugged. "Okay, for the Old Man's sake. Not 'cause we like it or anything!"

Steve grinned. " _Right_. So…you guys wanna go shopping tomorrow?"

The twins glanced at each other, appearing to be having a telepathic debate.

"Yes." Wanda finally said. Pietro nodded. They seemed to take turns speaking, when an answer was required from both of them.

"Alright. That's fine." Steve stretched. "See, not so bad."

Another double shrug. This time, Pietro spoke.

"No. Not so bad."

* * *

Considering that Steve didn't have any great love of shopping, and that the twins would probably get a little overwhelmed after a while, they opted to just buy any furniture online, and only actually go to a store for clothes and bedding.

They drove to a Macy's that most of the Avengers had frequented at one point or another, enough so that the workers knew to not ask too many questions, or go star-struck and ask for autographs.

As soon as they entered the store, two sets of eyes got as wide as dinner plates. Steve gave a sympathetic smile.

"A lot to take in, huh?"

Pietro jerked back to reality first. "What? No, it's fine!" he scoffed. "Totally fine."

"Yes. We've seen things like this before." Wanda added, her voice only shaking the smallest amount.

 _We have! On_ _ **television**_ _…_

Steve crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. Right."

"So, we gonna split this up boy-girl, or what?" Natasha cut in. "'Cause I know you start drooping at around two hours, Steve. Let's get this show on the road."

"Two hours?!" came the cry from both Steve and Pietro's mouths.

"Who needs two hours to buy clothing?" Pietro asked.

Natasha smirked, and grabbed Wanda's hand gently. "Well, that settles that discussion. C'mon, kid. Let's get this done."

* * *

Contrary to what he'd said, Pietro had never in his life seen this much _stuff_ in one area. Colors and images swam in front of his face, as he walked through the men's clothing section.

"See anything you want?" Steve asked.

Pietro turned around. "Does 'everything' count?" he enquired sheepishly.

Steve laughed. "I know, I know. You gotta think about it one thing at a time. Go get some basics first. For instance, I know you need socks, and probably boxers…"

Pietro scanned the space around him and sped down an aisle. He was back before Steve had the chance to count to twenty.

"Done." He dropped several items in the cart. Steve looked at said items and nodded.

"Okay. That was fast…"

Pietro tossed his hair back. "I like fast."

"Clearly…"

* * *

"Everyone looks so nice." Wanda said quietly, as Natasha steered her towards the correct clothing area. She brushed her hand down her black dress; it seemed even shabbier than normal in the bright, florescent lighting.

"Don't worry about it." Natasha said firmly. "Just hold your head up and remember that probably no one is looking at you. At least not as much as you think. Now, what kinda clothes do you want? You seem to have a thing for dresses."

Wanda shrugged. "They feel nice. I…I like _dark_ colors, but I guess light ones are okay too. Anything not gray." she shuddered. "They made us wear these gray uniforms, in the lab."

Natasha looked over the racks and pulled out a soft, polyester dress that was peach-colored. "How about this? It's pretty much the opposite of gray."

Wanda reached out and touched the fabric gently; like she was afraid it would fall apart. "It's beautiful…"

Pushing the dress into her hands, Natasha jerked her head backwards. "Dressing room's over there. Let's see if this fits, or if you need another size."

The dress fit. Wanda barely wanted to take it off again.

"Alright…" Natasha glanced the item over. "I'm thinking maybe a jean jacket to go with this? Seems like that's a good look for you."

Wanda nodded. "I didn't know I had a look. I just wear what I like."

"Well, what you like looks good on you."

"How…" Wanda stopped, but Natasha raised her eyebrows, so she continued. "How do you know so much about clothes?"

Natasha shrugged. "Because of missions. I had to know what clothes created what impression, how to dress so I didn't stand out—or so that I did. And…I kinda had your situation, growing up. Red Room uniforms weren't very flattering. I like wearing stuff that actually looks attractive."

Wanda flushed, remembering the memories she'd seen inside the spy's head. "I…I'm sorry I…"

She didn't even really know the right _term_ for what she'd done. Invaded? Breached? Messed with?

Natasha caught on, though. "It hurt, I'm not gonna lie. But I'd be the biggest hypocrite in the world if I never gave you another shot." She gave a soft smile. "Somebody took a chance on me, once. Several somebodies. I'd say you and your brother could use the same grace."

Wanda shook her head. "We were so wrong…"

"Exactly how your handlers wanted it. But now you know better." Natasha gave the girl a light tap on her back. "C'mon, let's keep going before Rogers sends me a 'get me outta here' text. Malls aren't really his thing. Especially after that one time…"

Wanda looked interested. "What 'one time'?"

Natasha smirked. "So, we were sort of on the run…"

* * *

"I thought Stark was kidding about the merchandising." Pietro said, holding up yet another t-shirt with the Avengers' faces plastered on it.

Steve shook his head ruefully. "Nope, he wasn't. Can't say it's unfortunate, and we donate a lot of the money we get from merchandise to charities, but…it does get a little embarrassing sometimes."

The cart was mostly full up with jeans, athletic warm-ups, sweatpants, and shirts in a variety of blues, greens, reds, and whites. True to Pietro's declaration, he did indeed like 'fast', and the shopping was taking no time at all.

"You feelin' hungry yet?" Steve asked, mindful of the younger man's insanely fast metabolism.

Pietro looked down. "A little."

"Eat your protein bar…and if we finish soon, I'll get you ice cream. I'm pretty sure there's an ice cream place in the food court."

"Ice cream?" Pietro tore off the wrapper and took a bite of protein bar. It was actually pretty good. "I can buy."

"Nah, my treat."

"No." Pietro's eyes turned almost stormy. "I can buy."

Steve's eyebrows raised slightly.

 _Ah. I see. I should have learned this with Bucky. Soon as he got all his back pay—thank you Sam and Tony's lawyers—he barely ever let me buy him anything for months._

Out loud, all he said was, "Okay, you can buy it."

After picking up a few pairs of shoes, they swung the cart around right past a watch display.

"Oh…" Pietro stopped, staring at one watch in particular. It had a beautiful silver and gold metal chain, and the face was blue with gold accents.

"You want it?" Steve questioned, taking a mental picture of the device. "You can definitely afford it."

Pietro managed to tear his eyes away. " _Ne_ …I am fine. Just looking." He gave an unconvincing scoff. "Only rich people wear things like that."

Steve didn't push it. "Alright, let's go get you a blanket and sheets, then."

Internally, though, his heart was aching. He recognized that tone, the 'I'm not good enough for this' tone. He'd heard it enough from Bucky, even from himself on occasion.

As Pietro walked ahead of him, Steve reached out and snatched the watch, shoving it under the pile of shirts.

 _If he won't get it for himself…then I will._

* * *

"I guess we missed them, or else they're around here somewhere." Natasha muttered. "Oh well. Go look around, try to find something you like."

Wanda stared at what looked like kilometers of sheets and blankets in every conceivable shade and pattern.

"Why do Americans have to have everything?" she asked, only half joking.

Natasha shook her head. "Just keep breathing, that's the key. Sheets are easiest—you want white?"

Wanda nodded.

"And how about one more color?"

Wanda glanced over the shelves and finally settled on a set in a deep burgundy.

"This one."

Natasha nodded. "Okay, find the right size. I think Steve said he ordered you queen-sized beds, right?"

"Yes…" Wanda found the appropriate sized sheets, mattress covers, and pillowcases. "Is this it?"

"Find a blanket you like, and we're outta here."

Heaving a sigh (and eternally grateful that she hadn't talked Steve into letting her and Pietro come here alone) Wanda turned to look at the display beds.

She walked over to a soft, brown blanket that was folded back to reveal a white, fuzzy underside. Placing her hand on it, she stroked across it in an arc.

"This one." she said firmly. She tried to look for a price, but Natasha was already heaving it into the cart.

"Don't look at the price, remember?" she warned lightly. "Let's go check out."

As they headed to the counter, they had to pass by a jewelry display. It took Natasha a few seconds (shockingly enough) to notice that Wanda was not beside her.

"Wanda?" Natasha turned back and noticed the girl standing over a display box. "Which one?" she asked calmly.

Wanda pointed mutely at a beautiful necklace, its dark-red stone cut in the shape of a heart, with two silver bands crisscrossing over it.

"It's so pretty…" she whispered. Before Natasha could stop her, she looked at the price. "Oh! No, no; I can't." she pulled away sharply. "Too much. I'm sorry. Please, we can go now."

Natasha glanced down as Wanda walked toward the cart. She clandestinely pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the necklace.

 _Too much for her…but not for me!_

They found Steve and Pietro checking out near the front of the store.

"I guess you do need two hours after all!" Natasha called breezily. Steve turned at the sound of her voice and rolled his eyes.

"You two want ice cream? Apparently Pietro's buying."

The Sokovian drew himself up and nodded.

"Ice cream?" Wanda muttered. Natasha shrugged.

"I'm not passing that up. And our fast-metabolism boys probably need the calories."

Wanda nodded, a mischievous smile spreading on her face. "I have no problem with ice cream."

* * *

It was early Monday morning. Wanda slowly slipped into consciousness and rolled out of bed.

As she did, she looked around her new room. The walls were bare white, but they were moving soon anyway. Her bed was a dark brown wooden frame that matched her blanket and made her burgundy sheets pop out like a hidden treasure. Her new clothes hung in a closet to the side of the bed, near the door.

She walked out into their 'living room,' which so far contained a beat-up couch and low, long wooden table. Neither she nor her brother saw much point in accumulating a lot of furniture.

But on the table lay something interesting.

Two small packages sat wrapped, in Avengers wrapping paper. One was addressed to her, the other to Pietro.

Wanda picked up her gift slowly, trying to remember the last time she'd received a present from somebody not her brother. Suddenly, she dashed into Pietro's room and shook him awake.

"Pietro, Pietro, wake up! Somebody left presents for us!"

Pietro groaned heavily; he hated waking up early. "What?"

Wanda shoved his gift in his face. "Somebody. Left. Us. Gifts. Understand?!"

With an extra-heavy groan, Pietro sat up and took the package, staring blearily at the wrapping paper. "Well, that's subtle. Who are they from?"

"I don't know. I didn't open them yet."

Pietro swept his hand out. "Ladies first."

Rolling her eyes, Wanda slowly opened the present, which turned out to be a small box. She lifted the lid, and promptly gasped.

"It's…it's the necklace…"

Pietro leaned over. "Where did you see this? It's beautiful!"

"A-at the s-store…" Wanda choked out. "I-I said it was too much, b-but Natasha saw…"

Pietro's eyes widened. He grabbed his own package and tore it open.

Sure enough, the watch he'd admired was there, along with a note.

 _Don't even_ _ **try**_ _to tell me you didn't want this, I saw your face. Consider it a "welcome to the family" present, or a make-up for all the Christmases you missed. Enjoy._

 _~Steve Rogers_

Pietro let out another groan, but this time it wasn't from tiredness. "I can't believe it."

Wanda peered at the watch. "I like it, _brat_. You have good taste."

Pietro grinned. "Same for you, _sestra_." He raised his eyebrows. "Help you with yours if you help with mine?"

Wanda sighed. "Deal." She turned her neck so that Pietro could fasten the necklace behind her neck, and then clasped the watch around his right wrist.

For a while, all either of them could do was stare.

"I'm afraid to move." Pietro admitted.

"Same." Wanda said. "I'm scared they'll disappear."

"We have to say thank-you."

"Yes. Later."

"Or now." Shyly, in imitation of a gesture he'd seen others make, Pietro tipped his head up. "J-Jarvis?"

"Yes, Mr. Maximoff?" the AI responded immediately.

Pietro paused for a minute. "Ah…where are Steve and Natasha, please?"

"I believe both of them are on Captain Rogers' floor at the moment. Would you like me to inform them of your coming?"

Pietro smirked. "No, that's fine. It's a surprise." He tugged Wanda's arm. "C'mon, let's go!"

Laughing, Wanda shot up and tugged herself out of her twin's grip. "Alright, alright, I'm coming!"

As they both dashed into the elevator, she couldn't help think at Pietro, _"This is a good place, right?"_

Pietro smiled. _"Oh yeah…a very good place."_

* * *

 **Hope that was worth the wait. As it is Christmas in two days (WHAT?!), I definitely won't be posting anything else until next week. I'll be posting a couple more one-shots before I start up my next (and currently last) full-length story. (Which involves a lot of craziness and DISNEY WORLD...yes, I'm going there!). I have about eight or nine more one-shots planned out, but I do take suggestions.  
**

 **Again, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, hope everyone has a good day with their family and/or friends.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	16. Culture Shock

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Hope you all had a fantastic holiday. I got enough Marvel gear to last awhile (including a backpack that looks like Cap's shield. My mom won Christmas.)**

 **This one-shot came about because one of my majors in college is Global Studies, and I've always been fascinated by other cultures in general. One of my classes last semester involved a lot a talk about cultural differences/culture shock. And, fictional superhero universe or not, those feelings still apply. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Culture Shock

Clint's mildly concerned look was visible even through the computer screen. "But really, you guys are doing okay?"

Pietro rolled his eyes. Wanda elbowed him the ribs. "Yes. We are fine." she said firmly. "Pietro's getting better. We have new clothes and our own floor. Everyone has been kind."

"No nightmares?" Clint pressed.

The twins were quiet for a few seconds.

"Nothing so bad." Pietro said at last, his lips compressed together in a thin line.

Clint sighed. "They get worse, tell someone; you hear me? We've all had enough experience with that stuff. And trying to hide nightmares never works out well. Everything blows up in your face eventually."

"That's an expression, yes?" Pietro asked, a tiny smirk on his face.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's an expression, kid."

"Good. I'm finished with explosions for a while." Wanda cut in.

Clint shook his head. Maybe Skype calls to the twins (courtesy of Steve or Tasha's laptop) weren't strictly necessary, but he felt partially responsible for them. Tasha joked that it was his 'dad-mode' coming out, but in reality, he mostly felt sorry for them.

Not in a "they're pathetic" way. More like an "I wish I could steal back what was stolen from them" way.

They didn't have parents or family to check in with them. And he was someone that was less overtly frightening than Steve or Natasha or Thor or even _Tony_ (in his own way) were.

"How's it been…adjusting?" he asked. His brain was calling up memories of when he'd first brought Natasha back to SHIELD. The situations were similar, though not exactly the same.

The twins gave each other looks. "I don't understand what you mean." Wanda mumbled, so soft that Clint could barely hear her. He sighed.

"Oh, come on, I may not be a genius, but even I know that Sokovia and the States are two different places! Is there anything you don't understand? Anything that's confusing?"

There was quiet for a bit. Then, suddenly, Pietro burst out with, "Why do Americans smile so much? People here, SHIELD people; or in stores, at the…where you pay. They nod at you, say hello. Why?"

Wanda rubbed her hand across her forehead, in a way that suggested an oncoming headache. Clint just laughed.

"Tasha had the same question, back when she first joined SHIELD; I'll give you the answer I gave her: why not?"

Pietro groaned. "Not helpful, Old Man."

"Okay, okay. Real answer: I have no clue. I'm not exactly a smiley type myself. Best I can come up with is that it's just a culture thing. It's a way of acknowledging other peoples' existence. And it varies, depending on where you are in the country. New York isn't exactly known for having overly friendly people. That's more the South."

"People are still kind here." Wanda said. "Even to strangers."

Clint shrugged. "That's a bad thing?"

"No. Not bad…just different."

"You're probably also dealing with the after effects of being in a HYDRA lab." Clint added quietly. "That's a whole _other_ culture."

Wanda nodded. "There's no structure here."

Clint raised his eyebrow. "Structure?"

"At the base, Strucker was in charge. Unless someone new came, someone important, no one questioned him. No one argued with his methods. Here…"

"Everybody questions everybody." Clint finished.

"Exactly!" Pietro cried. "Which, I like. I like questions. I like saying what I think. But who's in charge?"

Clint smirked, even as a feeling of sad déjà vu shot through him. "Who's in charge?" was just a low-key way of saying "who do we have to be wary of?" Or, "who can punish us?"

Natasha had taught him that one.

"Just listen to Cap and Tasha and you'll never go wrong. When it comes to fights, Steve calls the shots. But when the fights are over, when training's over for you two…nobody's really in charge of anybody. At least not like with HYDRA. You can make your own choices."

He could see the twins' eyes widen a bit, as they processed that statement.

"That does not mean you get to act like idiots and do whatever you want, though." he added firmly. "I'm sure you two basically raised yourselves, but now you've got people around that actually care about your well-being. Don't push that away."

Double nods showed that his advice had been heard.

"It's really okay to call everyone by first name?" Wanda questioned.

Clint nodded. "No titles necessary with anyone in the Tower. If you're not sure about what to call people, ask them. Nicknames are optional; Stark has about a hundred of them and uses them frequently. It's like a secret code, but it's not so hard once you understand it."

"One more thing…" Pietro asked, his voice trailing off sheepishly.

"Yeah?"

"You really have to be twenty-one to drink in America?"

Clint bit his lip to hold back a laugh. "Yeah, you do."

Pietro sighed, looking mildly confused and annoyed.

"Did you think Steve lied to you?" Wanda asked.

"No!" Pietro shot back. "Just…making sure…"

Clint frowned. "What, did you try to grab a beer or something and Cap told you off?" He knew the "drinking age" in some Eastern European countries was pretty sparsely regulated.

"No, he was drinking vodka on the Common Floor and Steve found him." Wanda corrected.

This time, Clint really couldn't hold back his laughter. " _Vodka_? Seriously?"

Pietro looked stubbornly defensive. "It was the good kind! I hadn't had any for a while! Wanted…something that tasted like home."

"Were you drinking it straight? Actually…just start from the beginning."

Pietro let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Fine…"

 _It was the middle of the afternoon, and Pietro was prowling the Common Floor. He knew he was supposed to be resting, but he was_ _ **bored**_ _! And also thirsty…_

 _His eyes drifted up to Stark's admittedly impressive collection of alcohol._

 _"_ _I bet they won't have it…" he muttered._

 _Wanda wasn't much for alcohol, but he liked the buzz it gave to his already amped-up metabolism. He'd only been drunk once, though; when he was sixteen—a horrible experience that he'd sworn never to repeat._

 _He cast his eyes over the shelves and finally settled on a tall, clear bottle. "Ej, what you know?" he mumbled, climbing on the counter and retrieving said bottle. After locating a shot glass and a can of Coke from the fridge (he_ _ **could**_ _drink it straight, but he preferred it balance of sweet and bitter), he poured himself a drink and sat down at the bar counter._

 _Unfortunately, it was just his luck that the elevator door opened. Revealing none other than Steve Rogers._

 _As he walked towards the staircase that led to the lab, Steve caught sight of him and nodded a greeting…and then craned his neck to get a better look._

 _"_ _Hey, Pietro…what are you drinking…?" Steve asked._

 _Pietro swallowed and jerked his head at the bottle. "Want some?"_

 _Steve made a disgusted face. "Nah, tried the homebrew version during the war, when my team met up with a Russian unit. I still don't understand how anyone can stomach the stuff!"_

 _Pietro shrugged. "Tastes okay to me."_

 _Steve shut his eyes for a brief moment, as though to gather his thoughts. "Uh, kid…you do know what you're doing is technically illegal, right?" he asked._

 _Pietro whipped his head around immediately. "Sitting at a bar counter is illegal?" he snarked, trying to still his suddenly-raging heartbeat._

 _Steve rolled his eyes. "No. The you drinking vodka part is illegal. You can't buy or drink alcohol in America unless you're over twenty-one."_

 _Pietro suddenly had no desire to drink anything, let alone alcohol. The Captain seriously had the worst "I'm disappointed in you" face, ever. "Think I'm done."_

 _Steve walked over and started to rest his hand on Pietro's shoulder. "Look, you're not in trouble, it was just kind of a shock…"_

 _Pietro flinched back, as soon as Steve's hand made contact with his shoulder._

 _A weary, angry look flashed across the super-soldier's face._

 _"_ _S-sorry…" Pietro mumbled._

 _Steve shook his head and the expression melted away. "Don't be. That one's all on HYDRA." A sad smile crossed his face. "Stupid HYDRA."_

 _Pietro sighed and felt his muscles start to unclench. The touch didn't feel so frightening now…_

 _"_ _So…you normally drink vodka in the middle of the afternoon?"_

 _Pietro shrugged. "No, not normally. I was bored, and thirsty."_

 _Steve's raised eyebrows showed that that maybe hadn't been the_ _ **best**_ _of answers._

 _"_ _And…I wanted something that tasted like home. I dunno. I was bored. It seemed like a good idea at the time!"_

 _Steve smirked. "Can't fault you for that excuse. I've had to use it a time or two myself."_

 _"_ _You?" Steve seemed so…_ _ **good**_ _. Shining. Perfect._

 _"_ _Contrary to popular opinion, I was not born with 'Truth, Justice, and the American Way' tattooed over my heart. I've done more than one idiotic thing in my lifetime. What you like alcohol for, the buzz?"_

 _Pietro nodded._

 _"_ _We'll get you some energy drinks, then."_

* * *

All Clint could do was shake his head as Pietro finished his story.

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad." he said. "He didn't really give you a hard time or anything."

"It could have been worse." Pietro agreed.

"It's hard." Wanda whispered, as though she didn't want her honesty to be heard too loudly. "I keep waiting for something to go wrong. Strucker was nice at first, too. And then he separated us."

Pietro leaned over and tugged Wanda against his chest.

Clint sighed. "Look…I can say we're the good guys a hundred times, but you're not gonna believe me completely right now. It's gonna take time. And that's normal." He smiled ruefully. "It's just really frustrating, for both sides."

It was quiet for about a minute. Clint could hear Laura telling the kids to go get ready for bed.

"Anything else?" he asked quietly.

Pietro shrugged. Wanda shook her head. "Nothing else…not now."

"Alright. I'll call again later this week, okay? Try not to burn the Tower down."

Wanda actually smiled. "We promise nothing."

Clint rolled his eyes.

 _Yeah, I bet they don't…_

* * *

"But why did you get them _McDonald's_?" Christy cried. "It's _disgusting_!"

In an effort to introduce the twins to a bit of Americana, Sam had picked up McDonald's on his way back from volunteering at the VA.

"What I'd like to know is, why is everyone on my floor?" Steve grumbled good-naturedly. Besides everyone who actually lived there, Natasha, Wanda, and Pietro were also crowded into the floor's living room.

Natasha smirked. "Well, you invited those two," she pointed at Sam and Bucky, "you adopted that one, and I just go wherever I want. Dunno about these ones, though…"

"But why McDonald's?" Christy was still hounding Sam as he set the take-out bags on the table.

"It's classic American, kid." Sam said. "Not so much classic American as some things in here…" Steve and Bucky rolled their eyes, "but still classic. Besides, it's not like you have to eat it."

Christy shrugged. "Okay, so maybe the fries are alright."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. And the Oreo McFlurry I bought you is totally _not_ going to get eaten at all…"

"Thank you, you're the best ever!"

" _After_ you eat dinner!" Steve said firmly, grabbing the McFlurry off of the kitchen table and setting it in the freezer. He pulled out his wallet and started to give Sam a bill. Sam shook his head and pushed the money back. "Don't even." he murmured.

Wanda stood up and eyed the food placed out on the table. "We had McDonald's in Sokovia…"

"It was okay." Pietro added. But the intensity with which he was staring at the crowded table belied his words.

Sam smirked. "Okay. Just so you know, I did not buy enough for all you people to gorge yourselves. I just bought it for our two recent newcomers." He gestured to the two wrapped Big Macs, two small fry-holders, and two apple pies. "Enough for them to get a taste. For actual dinner…" he pulled another set of bags from behind the table. "I bought Five Guys."

Christy let out a loud cheer and all the 'adults' grinned. Especially Bucky.

"Ah, Wilson, ye're a beautiful soul!" he said, in a bad imitation of an Irish brogue.

Steve snorted. "Trying to imitate your dad there, Barnes?"

"Aw, can it, Rogers; like you could do any better." Bucky stood up and started sorting food out of the Five Guys bags. "There must be ten burgers in here…and did they actually put the fries in holders, or did they just pour it straight in the bag?"

Sam shrugged. "I think they mighta poured it straight in the bag."

Pietro's eyes were wide with anticipation. "I love this country!"

Wanda rolled her eyes and tried to appear calm and collected, but even her face was split with a smile. She picked up a Big Mac and unwrapped the waxy paper, scrutinizing the food carefully. "Looks okay."

"Yeah, there's only a small amount of poison in it." Natasha joked. Wanda blushed slightly and took a bite.

"Okay, pretty good!"

Pietro, meanwhile, was already halfway through his burger and stuffing fries in his mouth every other bite.

"Are you even tasting that?" Sam asked. Pietro nodded. "Is good." he mumbled around the food in his mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Steve said. Everyone gave him incredulous looks. "Sorry, force of habit."

Within minutes, Pietro's food was all gone. Wanda had finished most of the burger and about half the fries in that time.

"So what's the verdict?" Sam asked, crossing his arms.

Pietro shrugged. "Good. I'd eat it again…a lot of grease, though. And…sugar? The bread was sweet."

"A lot of processed breads have sugar." Sam admitted. "Still hungry?"

Pietro nodded. "Always hungry." he replied, cocky grin firmly in place.

Sam rolled his eyes and shoved a Five Guys burger in his direction. "Have at it."

" _I ty_?" Bucky asked Wanda quietly.

The girl nodded. "It's okay. The potatoes are good."

"Fries." Christy corrected, snatching one from Wanda's portion. Wanda smirked and covered her food in mock-aggressiveness.

"Go eat your own, _mače_." she said. Pietro had taken to calling the girl "kitten," since she was always burrowing into someone like a cat.

Christy sighed in fake dejectedness. " _Fine_ …oh! That reminds me!" She dashed off into her room and came out triumphantly a few minutes later with a small _Ziploc_ bag, containing something that looked like blue sand.

Pietro shot Wanda a look. _"Is that drugs?"_

"That better not be what it looks like…" Sam said, a warning clear in his voice.

"It's candy, right?" Steve said, glancing at the bag.

"Yes, it's candy." Christy replied. "It's Pop Rocks, Sienna gave 'em to me at school. Wanted them to try some."

Both twins stared suspiciously at the bag.

"It's just sour." Christy said, shrugging. A tiny smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

Pietro, always daring, pinched a small amount from the bag. Wanda followed suit.

Bucky leaned over to Steve. "Is this the one that…?"

Steve grinned. "Yeah."

Natasha sat back expectantly. Cooper had introduced her to Pop Rocks once before. That had been an... _interesting_ experience.

Wanda's eyes went wide the second the candy landed on her tongue. _"It's like fireworks!"_ she sent to Pietro.

 _"It's_ _ **moving**_ _, why is i_ _t moving?!"_ Pietro shot back.

"What is in this, gunpowder?" Wanda cried, the second she'd swallowed the stuff. She could still feel it popping all the way down her throat.

"No, carbon dioxide; apparently." Steve said calmly. Christy snickered.

"Is it good?" she asked.

"It's moving. Candy is not supposed to move!" Pietro cried, flinging the bag across the table. Wanda retrieved it and took another pinch.

"I like it." she said.

Christy grinned. "Good. Welcome to America."

"Land of explosive candy." Bucky chimed in sarcastically.

 _Land of explosive candy, maybe._ Wanda thought. _But also land where people are kind to us, strangers; more than they have to be. It's not home…_ An image of the streets she'd roamed countless times with Pietro filled her mind. _"…but it's not supposed to be like home. It's allowed to be different."_

 _"_ _Ty khoroshow?"_ Natasha asked. "Your face was priceless."

And Wanda smiled.

" _Da, YA khoroshow._ "

Everything about their lives had changed now. There were bound to be quite a few shocks and surprises.

But if they were really with, as Clint had put it, "the good guys"…maybe the changes wouldn't be so hard after all.

 _Everything is easier with friends._

* * *

 **Five Guys is a mainly East Coast burger chain that started in DC, I believe. It is fantastic and 1000x better than McDonald's. Pop Rocks are amazing-if you haven't tried some, go to your nearest Cracker Barrel. Or Amazon.  
**

 **I don't advocate underage drinking or any-age drunkenness. But Serbia (where I'm basing "Sokovia's" culture off of) is extremely lax about drinking. And since my headcannon is that the twins basically grew up in the streets/an orphanage, and then a HYDRA lab...**

 **Translations:**

 **I ty: "And you?"**

 **Ty khoroshow: "You okay (good)?"**

 **Da, YA khoroshow: "Yes, I'm good."**

 **Hope you enjoyed. Next time around: "Where in the World is Bruce Banner?" It should be up soon.**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	17. Without Running Away

**Author's Note: Happy 2016, everyone! So, in honor of my birthday yesterday, I give to you: one chapter. This one's been floating around in my head for a while...**

 **Seriously guys, Bruce Banner needs a giant hug. Not even therapy, just a giant hug...**

 **The title comes from the song "Without Running Away" by Jason Gray. The title was _almost_ "Where in the World is Bruce Banner?" but when I was writing the last bit, I remembered the song and listened to it, and it just fit so perfectly with the theme of the chapter. Bruce, it seems to me, equates loving people with _protecting them from himself_ , which obviously is a problem. Because there is no love without relationship and there is no relationship without risk. Even if the "risk" is turning into a giant rage monster.  
**

 **The language used in this chapter is Tagalog, the main language of the Philippines. There are a lot of dialects/languages spoken there, but I just went with the main one _._**

 **Bruce's backstory follows the 2008 movie (except I don't ship him with Betty).  
**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Without Running Away

For some reason, the Hulk decided to crash-land the jet in the jungle, somewhere in the Philippine islands. (He hadn't been there yet, as far as he knew. Hadn't smashed anything.)

Bruce woke up to darkness and a pounding headache. And the familiar, sinking-gut feeling that told him his "beloved" alter-ego had done something crazy again.

But really, it was never crazy. It was always something in keeping with his deepest, most primal desires.

(That scared him the worst.)

He couldn't go back, he told himself. Not after everything. He was tired of running, but he was even more tired of causing damage that caused innumerable PR headaches for him and anyone close to him.

(In his dreams, he could still hear the screams and see terrified faces...)

And when his traitorous mind whispered that maybe Natasha wanted him back, he swatted the thought away angrily, like a rogue mosquito. Natasha didn't need him, didn't deserve him. Natasha deserved someone who wasn't a hunted fugitive, a menace to society.

It had been a nice dream, but now it was time to face reality.

So, he went back to doing what he did best. The jet was well equipped with medical supplies and emergency cash, and wasn't crashed too far from the nearest town. He operated the way he always did: good quality medical service for practically _pro bono_. And this time, he didn't have to rent an apartment—he just lived out of the jet.

This was a good arrangement, he told himself. He was away from people he could cause potential harm to. He didn't get lonely. He liked the quiet.

This time, though, the lies fell flat quicker.

* * *

It didn't take him long to garner attention from some of the local kids. Everyone was interested in the new _doktor Americano_ , but only the kids were bold enough to follow him around and ask questions.

There was one child in particular, a boy of about eleven named Adrian, who seemed to have made it his mission to find out everything he could about Bruce. Bruce minded it a lot less than he should have.

Since it became quickly known that the doctor was not living in town full-time, Adrian kept trying to follow him into the jungle, to see where he lived. At last, Bruce gave up trying to shake him.

"You live here?" the boy cried, upon seeing the jet. "Where did you come from in America, _Doktor_ Banner? Were you a soldier?"

Bruce managed to not reveal too much, although he did admit that he had been "sort of" a soldier and was currently trying to stay off the grid.

"But don't tell anyone, understand? Nobody can know anything. I'm just a doctor, understand? Just a doctor."

Adrian nodded solemnly. "I promise. I tell nobody." His face turned sad for a moment. "But are you okay alone, _Doktor_? I would be lonely if I lived without my parents and sister…"

Bruce swallowed hard and tried to breathe deeply, tried to act like the kid's question hadn't just opened up the proverbial Pandora's Box of emotions inside him. "Nah…it's okay. I'm fine, kid. I like the quiet."

Adrian stared at him with a highly skeptical expression, but eventually nodded. "Okay. But I'll stay until dinner." He glanced at the tiny plastic watch on his wrist, the watch that he was so proud of. "My _nanay_ doesn't need me home until dinner. That's an hour. So I'll stay here. Maybe I'll come every day…?"

Bruce sighed. "Don't you have school or something, kid?"

Adrian shook his head. "School's done. Done for a long time. I'll stay now and come tomorrow."

True to his word, the boy started following Bruce "home" every day, to the point that the scientist grew used to the small, comforting presence walking beside him. Adrian was smart, and would often come along as Bruce visited patients to act as an assistant.

Bruce knew he would be lying to say that it wasn't nice, having the kid around. To tell the truth, it was more than nice. Adrian, with his steady stream of mundane chatter, was a nice distraction from the problems he worked hard to mentally avoid.

Life was almost normal again, for him.

* * *

One day, though, it was all too much. Nightmares had robbed him of any good rest the night before, and he literally felt on the verge of a mental breakdown. His heart was pounding at what felt like a thousand miles an hour.

Currently, he was wrapped in a blanket with opera music blasting from his headphones. But even the music had little to no effect on his shot nerves.

" _Doktor_ Banner? _Doktor_ Banner! You home? Why didn't you come to town today?"

Bruce let out a frustrated groan that could have passed for a whine.

"Adrian, kid, you need to…" But it was too late. The boy had already burst into the plane and found him curled up against the curved metal side.

Adrian's eyes went wide. "Are you sick, _Doktor_? You're sick. You need a hospital…"

"No, kid, I do not need a hospital! I don't need anyone! I need…I need to be left alone. Please, just go…everyone who tries to help me gets hurt…"

Naturally, such stirring logic failed to send the boy away. Instead, it made him come closer. "You eat anything today, _Doktor_?"

"Not exactly…"

Adrian looked confused. "Why not? Eat! Are you sick?"

"My _head_ is sick, kid. I…I have bad memories. Sometimes, I remember them too much."

"Oh. Because you were a soldier. Did you fight in a war?"

Bruce sighed. "Not a war." he said weakly. "Please, go away…"

Adrian shook his head. "I'm not here, and you get head-sick. Why should I go away? It won't make you better!" He bit his lip in contemplation. "Maybe I should get my sister Serena. She could make you food. I can't cook good."

Bruce stood up, nearly affronted but also strangely touched. "I can cook!"

"Then make food and eat it! And then, we talk." The boy grabbed Bruce's hand and started pulling. Seeing that there was no good way of getting out of this, the scientist acquiesced and made some rice and beans. Adrian stared at each bite he took like a laser and refused any offer to share.

"You eat." he said firmly. "I had lunch."

When Bruce had swallowed the last morsel, Adrian took up his interrogation.

"So what made you head-sick?"

"Look, Adrian, you're a good kid, but you don't wanna know…"

"I want to know." The boy's dark eyes looked like flint. "You help everyone feel better, but you don't let anyone help you."

Well, it was true. It had been true for as long as Bruce could remember.

 _Because if you let people help you, they just end up getting hurt in the end…or hurting you…_

He had a thousand good reasons why he should tell this kid nothing. Maybe make up some crazy story about being in Special Ops…

But his "thousand good reasons" were utter crap, and he knew it.

"Let me tell you a story." he heard himself say. "Or are you too old for fairy tales?"

Adrian frowned. "Fairy tales? Like _Frozen_?" He scowled. "My sister likes that movie."

Despite his mood, Bruce smirked. "Nah, not like _Frozen._ " _More like the Hunchback of Notre Dame_ , a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. "It's the story of a man…and a monster." He took a deep breath.

"Once upon a time, there was a…wizard. He was hired by a powerful general to help create a…potion that would protect people from…bad magic, magic that made people sick. The wizard tried, but he couldn't make the potion. And because he was around the potion's ingredients so much, it…caused a problem."

Adrian was staring at him intently, clearly hooked on the story. Bruce felt slightly impressed with himself.

 _Maybe I should become a writer…_

"Exposure to the potion's ingredients affected the wizard's emotions. Every time he was angry or stressed or worried, his emotions would work against him and turn him into a monster. A giant, super-strong monster. The monster destroyed the place where the wizard had worked and ran away, but the general was angry. The government of the country was angry. So they tried to find the wizard, to put him in jail."

"But that's wrong!" Adrian cried. "He was sick! It was their fault, anyway. They paid him to make the potion…"

Bruce shrugged. "The wizard hid in foreign countries for many years. He used his magic to help others, but he always had to be careful that the monster did not come out. But one day, he was found by a woman who worked for a secret group of fighters, who kept people safe. The man in charge of the group wanted the wizard to help them. The wizard didn't want to…but the group was powerful. So he agreed. He helped the group fight and they accepted him. They…became like his family. And he…eventually fell in love with the woman who had found him…"

Adrian's face was scrunched up in a concentrated frown. He was a smart kid. Bruce knew that he was attempting to put two and two together.

"So why did the… _wizard_ leave his family?" Adrian asked finally.

"Because…the group fought an enemy one day who was accidentally created by the wizard and one of the other men…an alchemist."

"What's an alchemist?"

Bruce smiled at the irony. "Someone who people used to think could turn lead into gold. It's not possible, but people used to think it was in the old days."

"Ah. So this man was crazy?"

"Hey, it's a fairy tale, remember? So the wizard and the alchemist created a powerful being who, instead of protecting people like it was supposed to, tried to destroy the whole world. And while the wizard was attempting to stop it with his friends…he turned into the monster. He hurt many people and destroyed parts of a city. And…he was scared that he might get in trouble and taken to jail, or cause his friends problems. So after the enemy was dead, while he was still the monster, he traveled away from his friends and hid again."

There was silence for a moment.

"Did the wizard ever go back to his friends?" Adrian whispered.

Bruce shrugged. "I don't know. The story isn't over yet."

"He should go back." Adrian said firmly. "His friends will miss him."

A lump grew in Bruce's throat. "But he just causes them trouble."

Adrian shrugged. "I do…stupid things. Get bad grades sometimes. Argue with my sister or _nanay_ and _tatay_. But they love me. If I ran away, they would cry." A small smirk grew on the boy's face. "So…what was the wizard's _girlfriend_ like?"

Bruce sighed. "She was a spy. She had worked for enemies of the wizard's country for a long time, but only because she was forced to. Eventually, she came to work for the…group. She was very beautiful and very strong. Grown men were terrified of her. She was smart and brave and had the most beautiful red hair…"

"One of the Avengers has red hair…Black Widow…" Adrian said quietly.

"But this is a fairy tale, remember?" Bruce said, slightly stern.

Adrian nodded. But his eyes suddenly took on a euphoric light as everything surely fell into place.

"Go home, _Doktor_ Banner." he said finally. "Go home. Your friends want you. I know they do. My _nanay_ says that family should always stay together, especially when bad things happen. And…I think your girlfriend will miss you, too."

The lump in Bruce's throat grew bigger. "It's…not so simple, kid. I could be in big trouble." There was no use keeping up the "fairy tale" premise now.

"You could. Or not. But if you stay here, you'll be alone and keep getting head-sick. That's not good. We don't need a doctor so badly that you need to stay." Adrian reached out and grabbed Bruce's forearm. "Go home."

 _Go home…_

 _"_ _Hey, big guy! We did it. Job's finished. Now, I need you to turn this bird around, okay? We can't track you in stealth mode. So help me out. I need you to…"_

And suddenly, Bruce let out a strangled sob, a sob that had been held back for nearly a month.

 _Natasha! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have left! It was all my fault! I'm sorry, guys! Sorry, Tony. Sorry, everybody…_

"You're a good man, _Doktor_ Banner…" he heard Adrian say, dimly. "It's okay if you smashed a city. You helped save the world! You're good…"

Bruce didn't know how long he sat there crying his guts out, but it must have been a pretty long time. When he felt sufficiently hollowed out (and also strangely cleansed…), he looked up.

Adrian was in the small "kitchen" area, cleaning his dishes at the sink.

"Thanks…" he croaked out, feeling terrible. "Sorry you had to see that, kid."

Adrian just shrugged. "Everybody cries. But if my _tatay_ cries, it's a big problem. I figured the same for you." He turned to face Bruce. "My _nanay_ told me this morning to invite you to our house for dinner. I forgot. She said it's to say thank-you for what you've done."

Bruce sighed almost bitterly. "Sure you're not worried I won't knock your house down, kid?" Any pretense of a "fairy tale" was now most definitely gone.

"No. Not really. But I don't care, anyway." Adrian smiled. "You're my friend. Come with me. We'll go to my house and my _nanay_ will make you food. And then, you can go home."

As Bruce let himself be dragged towards town by this strange kid, almost an angel in disguise, he couldn't help but feel peace.

Maybe it was time he stopped lying to himself.

 _This isn't a good arrangement. I'm running away from all my responsibilities. I'm not protecting people I care about, I'm causing them pain. I may like quiet, but there is such a thing as too much quiet. And…I'm lonely._

That was it, in the end. He was heart-stoppingly _lonely_.

Things were complicated, sure. He might have U.S. government officials to answer to if he went back. Or Wakandan government officials. Or angry social media.

(And to be honest, angry social media scared him more…)

 _"_ _I love you. I don't care what the news says the Hulk did. I love you."_

 _"_ _I need you to turn this bird around…"_

As the lights of the town appeared, Bruce gave a long sigh.

 _I'll…come home._

It was time to run the risk of loving people- _without_ running away.

* * *

 **You can always come home...**

 **This might be the last one-shot for a while, because I'm hopefully going to get up my last (!) planned story, _A World of Hope_ , in which part of the gang takes on their biggest mission yet-surviving Walt Disney World. I still have more one-shots planned, they just won't be up until after I post _World of Hope_. So be on the lookout for that one!**

 **Translations:**

 **Doktor Americano: "American doctor"**

 **Nanay: "Mom"**

 **Tatay: "Dad"**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	18. Don't Tell Cap!

**Hello, all; I'm back to this story at last!**

 **First, a shout-out to the fact that this chapter makes this the longest story I've posted yet! My first chapter eighteen! Hopefully with quite a few more to come...**

 **So, I'd said that I wouldn't update until the end of the month, but this idea has been banging around in my brain since summer, and I felt bad about leaving you all hanging for so long. It's pretty short, but it does take things into Ant-Man territory, which is my last place canonically to take the ChristyVerse before CIVIL WAR (dun dun dun!). I have some more fun things planned for Scott in my 'Verse, so this is really just a bit of a teaser and practice for me in writing him. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: "Don't Tell Cap!"

 _"_ _The final phase of your training will be a stealth incursion…you must retrieve this prototype of a signal decoy. It's a device I invented during my SHIELD days It's currently collecting dust in one of Howard Stark's old storage facilities in Upstate New York…should be a piece of cake…"_

Hank's words ran through Scott's head like a comforting record as he prepared to exit the plane. This was a simple mission: get in, get the device, and get out. Easy.

He was actually feeling pretty confident. After all, burglary was his specialty.

"You're over the target area." Came Hank's voice over his headset. "Disengage…now, Scott!"

Scott took a deep breath. "Squadron A, now!" he called out, focusing in to transmit the order into the tiny brains of his teammates. "B, go! C, go!" He jumped on Antony last of all. "Okay Antony," he said, "please don't drop me this time!"

Antony flew out of the plane. The cold air whipped against Scott's face, cutting through even the uniform.

 _Seriously, Hank never thought to add flannel to this thing?!_

"Oh, it feels like a big leap from sugar cubes to this!" he moaned. That was his style—he got nervous, he started running his mouth.

"Stay calm." Hank said firmly.

Suddenly, Scott's stomach gave a fierce wrench as the target came into sight.

"Uh, guys? We might have a problem! Hank, didn't you say this was 'some old warehouse'? It's not!"

Perhaps this really had been a Stark warehouse at some point. But now, the gleaming silver metal and giant 'A' on the roof proclaimed that the building was currently being put to very good use.

"You son of a bitch!" _He sent me right into the freakin' lion's den! I'm gonna get shot up and die! Burglary's one thing, but taking something right out from under the nose of the_ _ **Avengers**_ _?!_

"Scott, get out of there!" Hope ordered.

"Abort, abort now!" Hank echoed.

Scott took a second look at the target. It appeared strangely deserted.

 _Maybe they're all on vacation?_

It was still possible for him to slip in unnoticed. Who would be looking for a bunch of ants?

Besides, he badly wanted to prove, especially to Hope, that he wasn't a complete screw-up.

"No, it's okay." he said, with more confidence than he felt. "It doesn't look like anyone's home. Antony, get me to the roof!"

* * *

In hindsight, Sam figured he should have expected something to go down.

Unfortunately, as the old saying went, hindsight is 20-20.

The base was pretty deserted; it was a Saturday, so Clint was home and he'd taken Natasha and the twins with him. Rhodey and Vision were up at the Tower, and Steve had taken Christy into the city for the day, to meet up with one of her friends.

Bucky had stayed behind with him, and they'd been insistent that they were perfectly capable of holding down the fort.

Sam was doing a perimeter check just to be on the safe side, when the sensor in his suit gave a warning beep. Apparently there was an intruder on the roof.

Preparing himself mentally, he activated his wings and flew up there.

 _Man, I love this suit!_

He'd been pretty crushed when his wings had been put out of commission after D.C. Bucky had apologized soundly after he'd gotten his head screwed back on enough to remember the fight. But, of course, how exactly was one supposed to hold a grudge over a broken set of wings against a guy who'd been tortured and brainwashed for seventy years?

Luckily, Tony Stark was one _fine_ mechanic. His suit was better than ever.

Once on the roof, he was almost convinced they needed to re-calibrate the alert system because there didn't seem to be…

"What's goin' on down there, Sam?"

Bucky was on the other side of his headset, ready to come out for back-up if necessary.

"I had a sensor trip, but I'm not seeing anything." he replied. Then, a small speck entered into his peripheral vision.

 _Wait_ …

Suddenly, thanks to the vision goggles, Sam found the intruder. Or, what he guessed was the intruder. It was a human figure, no doubt, but how…?

The figure started to move back, probably thinking he or she was still invisible.

"I can see you." Sam called out.

There was a sudden whirring noise as the figure grew to human size in an instant. He clicked a button on the side of his headpiece, revealing the face of a young, white male.

"Hi, I'm Scott." he said, shifting nervously and lifting his hand in a half-wave.

Years of military training kept Sam from bursting out laughing—though it would be a lie to say he wasn't tempted. Instead, he opted for:

"What are you doing here?"

"Okay, first off, I'm a big fan…" 'Scott' began.

"Appreciate it. So who the hell are you?"

The man honest-to-God turned slightly and said in what was probably supposed to be a 'heroic' tone, "I'm Ant-Man."

Okay, that did it. Sam couldn't keep the grin off his face. " _Ant_ -Man?"

"You mean you haven't heard of me? Nah, you wouldn't have heard of me!"

"You wanna tell me what you want?"

"I was hoping I could grab a piece of technology…just for a few days, I'll return it. I need it to, ah, save the world, you know how that is…"

 _Right…_ "Yeah, I know exactly how that is." He spoke into his hand mic. "Located the breach, bringing him in."

"I'm sorry about this…" Scott said, as he shrunk and slammed into Sam's face in the space of a second.

In that moment, Sam should have known just how badly he was screwed. But, of course, hindsight's…yeah.

"Breach is an adult male who has some sort of shrinking tech." he said to Bucky.

"Want back-up?" Bucky asked.

"Nah, I got it."

For a bit, Sam thought he had the upper hand. He had to give the guy credit, though, he was _feisty_. And persistent.

And polite. Sam lost count of how many 'sorrys' the guy sputtered out.

Things didn't really get bad until Sam chased him into the back storage garage. It was full of old prototypes that had been kept when the base had been renovated from its previous warehouse status.

The guy shrunk, and suddenly, Sam couldn't see him at all.

 _Where the…_

And then it hit him, right as he crashed through the metal door.

"He's in my suit!" he yelled in frustration.

He struggled on, but he could feel the suit's wiring going out of commission, making him spin wildly through the air. His wings collapsed inward and he fell backwards into the dirt with a thud.

Gasping for breath, he sat up and scanned the area…but the intruder was gone.

He gave a soft, frustrated sigh and took off his goggles. "It's real important to me that Cap _never_ finds out about this…" he said into the hand mic.

"Finds out about what?!" Came Bucky's confused and worried voice. "Wilson, what the hell just happened?"

"Tell ya in a sec…"

* * *

"So…so wait." Bucky folded his arms, his face shot with utter disbelief and hilarity. "You got beat up…by an _ant_?"

Sam huffed. "I did _not_ get beat up by an _ant_ , Barnes, I got beat up by a guy with shrinking tech who calls himself Ant-Man."

Bucky still looked far too amused for Sam's comfort.

"Look, you're not gonna seriously tell Steve…?"

Bucky shrugged. "Depends. What'd he take?"

"He grabbed some old prototype, a tiny thing…looked like a mini radiator…"

"Those things still exist?"

Sam frowned. "What…oh, radiators? Yeah, they exist. 'Specially on military bases. You got some _old_ houses on military bases."

Bucky groaned. "Great, thanks for makin' me feel all of my technical age, Sam. Maybe I will tell Steve you got beat up by an ant."

"I did not get beat up by an ant!" Sam practically screamed.

Silence reigned for a good half-minute. It took a lot to make Sam lose his cool. Bucky took an involuntary step back—loud yelling still wasn't exactly his thing.

Sam winced. "Sorry, man. S'just…this rattled me a bit, that's all. C'mon, let's see if we can figure out what the guy took."

Bucky nodded. "And then what? Any way to find out more about this guy?"

Sam looked thoughtful. "Maybe…I might know a guy…actually, a girl. She's a journalist."

"When did _you_ have time to meet a pretty journalist?"

Sam drew himself up. "You meet a lot of people down at the VA. She was doing some fact-gathering for a story. She's not exactly a professional journalist…but she does get information. Her big target right now is anything 'superhero' related. Apparently there's been a rise in the amount of new crime-fighters on the loose lately."

Bucky just shook his head. "Well, okay, if you've got this…"

"I totally got this!"

"Like you totally had that fight?"

Sam groaned. "You just keep your mouth shut, and this'll all go swimmingly."

"You know you're gonna have to let the team know _sometime_ …"

"Yeah, I know. But not today!"

* * *

 **Poor Sam. He'll have to tell everybody eventually. But he'll get his revenge on Scott next one-shot (with a bit of help from Natasha). No smackdowns, but he will get to give Scott a pretty good scare. It'll be fun...  
**

 **Next time around is Scott's official "initiation" into the Avengers. With the best "hazing ritual" ever and more of Scott being an idiotic, good-hearted goofball. Look for it near the end of the month. Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	19. He Said Yes! Part One

**Hello, everyone! I'm back!**

 **First off, I apologize profusely for the stupidly-long amount of time between updates. After I got back from my spring break trip, I got hit with a truck-load of projects and papers and responsibilities, and writing became the absolute last thing I had time for. However, things have marginally calmed down now, so I'm more-or-less back. But...I can't promise any kind of regular posting schedule until the semester ends in May.**

 **At any rate, I hope you enjoy this little offering, humble though it may be. Thanks for stickin' with me!**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: "He Said 'Yes'!" Part One

"So I ask Ignacio, 'Did the bad-ass tell the stupid-fine writer chick to tell you to tell me, because I'm tight with Ant-Man, that he's lookin' for him?'"

Scott's heart ricocheted up into his mouth. "And? What'd he say?"

There was a very long pause. Just when Scott was contemplating grabbing Luis by the shirt collar and threatening him with bodily harm, the man replied:

"He said 'yes'!"

Scott didn't even try to keep back the involuntary shout that escaped out of his mouth.

"D-did he say anything else? L-l-like, am I supposed to do something, or just wait, or…?"

Luis shrugged. "Iganacio said he said to just wait and they'd 'be in touch'."

Scott groaned. "Whatever that means…" Still, he was pretty much on cloud nine. The Avengers were looking for him! Maybe they wanted him on their team!

Or maybe they wanted to chew him out for kinda kicking Falcon's butt…

 _And they say Falcon's tight with Captain America and Black Widow…crap, I'm screwed…_

Well, whatever they wanted him for, he'd just have to wait and find out. It wasn't like he had someone's number on speed-dial, and though he could probably theoretically hack into whatever government site _had_ said numbers, he didn't feel like pissing off the Avengers _again_.

Nope, it was back to the waiting game.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight…" Steve said. He appeared perfectly calm and controlled, but Bucky had known him long enough to see the faintest strains of mirth poking through the façade. "You got beat up…by a guy with shrinking tech…and that same guy stole an old prototype. And this guy was called Ant-Man."

"Yes, Ant-Man; _Ant_ -Man." Sam said testily. "Are ya happy, Steve? I got beat up by an ant!"

"That's what I said." Bucky added.

"And where were you?" Natasha threw in. "You _two_ were in charge of guarding the base!"

"He said he could handle it!"

Natasha sighed deeply. "First rule of engagement: never believe someone when they say they can 'handle it'."

"Look, Romanoff, I don't need a lecture on the _rules of engagement_ …"

"Can it." Steve said, in his best 'team leader voice'. "Fighting's not gonna help. I talked to Tony, apparently the prototype wasn't anything serious; he…hadn't even remembered it 'till I said something."

"So who was this guy and why did he, a, even know it was here, and, b, want it?" Sam asked rhetorically.

"He was working for someone else?" Bucky said. "That's the obvious one."

"But who…?"

"Hank Pym." Came Rhodey's triumphant-sounding voice as he strode into Steve's 'office'. "Just got off the phone with Tony. He was able to go through some old files and find out who invented the prototype. Apparently it was this guy."

He drew out his tablet and everyone crowded around to view the information displayed.

"So he invented this thing…why'd he want it back now, enough to send a guy to come get it?" Sam asked.

In answer, Rhodey flipped to another screen on the tablet. "You guys _might_ wanna read this…"

It was a news article and the flashing headline read:

 _"_ _PymTech destroyed, CEO Darren Cross missing, presumed dead"_

The group finished scanning the article.

"Well, all right then…" Steve muttered, heaving a sigh. "That's interesting."

"What's your call, Cap?" Natasha asked.

Steve shrugged. "I guess we'd better find out what the ant wants." he said solemnly.

Everyone gave quiet nods. But the serious moment was broken by a loud cry that pierced through the walls of the office:

"Pietro! Gimme back my book!"

A ripple of laughter sounded through the room. Along with Pietro's taunt in something that didn't sound like English. And then Wanda's exasperated tone, also in not-English.

Natasha cracked open the door. "Oh, children?" she called out.

Steve's office was near to the new Common Area, a collection of couches, chairs and a TV that led into the communal kitchen. Currently in said area was a veritable collection of the twins, Vision, and Christy.

Pietro, a book held high over his head, had frozen at the sound of Natasha's voice. In doing so, he missed Christy climbing up on the couch behind him and snatching the coveted item out of his hand.

The blond turned around, but Christy had already disappeared down the hall to her room.

"That's my girl." Steve muttered proudly.

"So…the ant-man?" Rhodey prompted.

Steve nodded. "Right. We gotta find out what he's up to."

Sam grinned. "And I know exactly who to ask."

* * *

Walking back to his shared apartment from the bus stop in the dead of night was not something Scott relished. However, since Luis had the van for the night, he was stuck with public transportation as his means home from visiting with Cassie, Maggie, and Paxton.

Paxton had offered to drive him home, but although they'd mended fences for the most part, Scott still didn't feel like he could swallow his pride enough to accept the offer.

So, here he was, alone in the dark. He hunched his shoulders and tried to seem as harmless and inconspicuous as possible.

He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was being watched.

A short distance back, a woman with distinctive red hair peered through the windshield. "You sure that's him?"

Her companion nodded. "That's him alright."

The woman nodded and stepped lightly on the gas pedal.

Scott's heart was hammering a thousand miles a minute and his brain ran through defensive fighting tactics as the sleek, black car pulled up to the curb beside him and the window rolled down.

He was just about to bolt for it, when a man's voice (a _familiar_ man's voice) said, "Scott Lang?"

Scott nearly choked on his own spit. "Y-yup, ah, yup, that's me, that's, ah…" he trailed off. _Crap, crap, crap…shut up you, idiot!_ "Can I, uh, help you?"

The unfamiliar woman behind the wheel sighed and said, "Just get in the damn car, Lang."

There was far too much authority in her tone for Scott to do anything but comply. She sounded like Hope on a really, really bad day; like at the beginning of his training. He pulled the rear door handle and creaked it open slowly.

"I'm sorry about this, man…" came the man's voice (Falcon, it had to be). A pair of hands reached out and tied some sort of blindfold across his face.

"Wait, what is this, a kidnapping?" Scott protested. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal; this is illegal!"

"So is stealing a prototype from Avenger's HQ." the woman said calmly.

"Just try and relax, this'll all be over soon." Falcon said.

Scott tried to take deep breaths. _Okay, the guy is definitely Falcon. The woman…I got no clue._ He wracked his brain to try to think about the women he knew were connected with the Avengers…

Suddenly, the answer slammed into him like a ton of bricks.

 _Black Widow?_ _I'm_ _ **dead**_ _!_

He'd been doing his homework since Luis had passed along the message to him that night. Combing the depths of the internet, he'd researched each member of the Avengers until he felt he almost knew them personally. He'd been ecstatic at the process of meeting one or all of them.

Of course, when he'd thought about that, being practically _kidnapped_ hadn't ranked high on his list of potential first meetings.

He sighed. The suit would have _really_ come in handy right about now.

The car eventually stopped and he heard the car door open. A pair of hands reached in and forced him up.

"Okay, okay." he said, getting to his feet. "Can we please quit with all the cloak-and-dagger stuff? I thought you were the good guys!"

The chilling silence didn't do his nerves any favors.

Finally, _finally_ , the blindfold was taken off and Scott got a good look at his surroundings.

They were in a dimly-lit, nearly-empty ware house—some old machinery from God-knew-what was the only evidence the place had been or was still in use.

And his 'kidnappers'…

Yeah, it was definitely Falcon and Black Widow.

Falcon crossed his arms and smirked. "And that, my insect friend, is what I like to call _revenge_."

Scott gaped. "Were…were you guys just trolling me?"

"Okay, start talking." Black Widow said. "Who are you working for?"

"Uh…would you believe me if I said the ants recruited me?"

"So, the name Dr. Henry Pym means absolutely nothing to you." Sam deadpanned.

"Well, ah, I can't say that…I mean, there was a lot of passive-aggressive threats and weird trolling…a lot of trolling, and I still don't know how I woke up in that room or whose pajamas I was wearing that morning, but…"

Black Widow gave another long sigh that might have been attempting to cover a laugh. "Just start from the beginning, okay?"

Scott nodded tightly. "Okay. So, I was kinda in prison…"

He meandered his way through the event of the past couple months, ending with the night raid-slash-destruction of PymTech.

"So, that's the long and short of it. We…got rid of Cross, and the suit. And…now, I'm sort of a superhero? I guess?" He shrugged.

Falcon and Black Widow gave each other looks. Black Widow grabbed Falcon's arm and pulled him to the side. Scott looked the other way and discretely pretended he couldn't hear a word they were whispering.

"He does seem legit…"

"Nat, can't we quit leavin' the poor guy in suspense?"

" _You're_ the one that wanted to avenge your honor or something…"

"I didn't _say_ 'avenge my honor,' I _said_ 'get him back'."

"Uh, guys?"

Two heads whipped over in Scott's direction. He cleared his throat.

"Um, so, this was fun and all, but…can I ask what this was all about?"

Falcon smirked. "The Avengers are hiring, Lang. Care to join our merry-but-insane group of crime-fighters? I swear we're not as intimidating as we look. Well, some of us aren't." He glanced sideways at Natasha.

The mood whiplash was so fast, Scott barely had time to process. "Wait, so you guys…actually want me?"

"The official call was that you were too intriguing and possibly dangerous _not_ to recruit." Natasha said. "Besides, we've already got Falcon and Hawkeye—we needed another weird animal motif hero."

Scott shook his head slowly. "But I was kind of a criminal." Was all that came out.

As much as he tried to get by in life on bluff, bluster, and an insane amount of humor, Scott hadn't escaped from his experiences unscathed. Particularly in the 'sense of self-worth' category.

"Dude, you pretty much kicked my ass singlehandedly." Falcon said.

"Not pretty much, he just…" Black Widow started. Falcon just gave her a 'please-don't-start-this' look.

Scott looked down sheepishly. "Yeah, about that…look, I'm really sorry, but we needed the prototype and you weren't exactly listening…"

Falcon shook his head. "It's okay. It makes sense now. But I'd be honored to have your fighting prowess on _my_ side next go-around, alright?"

Scott nodded. "Alright."

"Besides, all of these people have something terrible in their past. We're literally a bunch of walking psych cases. And I'm the only shrink!"

"A shrink?"

"Yeah, I'm a licensed counselor, ex-military, the whole shebang."

Of course he was. Scott remembered now.

"Anyway…" the man stuck out his hand. "Sam Wilson. Nice to meet ya, officially."

Scott shook the proffered hand and resisted the urge to pinch himself to make sure this was real.

"Natasha Romanoff." Black Widow—Natasha—gave him a nod. "Sorry about all this, but wing-boy wanted his revenge and we needed to make sure you were on the up-and-up."

Scott smirked. "Yeah, so does everybody get a hazing ritual, or am I just the lucky guy?"

Sam grinned back. "Nah, you're just _that_ special."

Natasha was entering something into a phone—and it took Scott a second to realize that it was _his_ phone she had. "I'm putting in a couple numbers and a couple pertinent emails. You got Skype?"

Scott nodded dumbly.

"We'll be Skyping you soon, set up an official meeting."

"You mean this wasn't the official meeting?"

Sam shook his head. "Cap said he'd prefer something a little more formal for the records. And everybody wants to meet you."

Scott nearly had a fanboy heart attack. "Captain America wants to meet me?!"

"He also snores in his sleep." Natasha added. "We're not demigods, Lang."

"Coulda fooled me." Scott muttered.

"You get over the hero worship eventually." Sam said. "Trust me. A year and a half ago, I had no idea what I was getting into. But now…no regrets."

Scott nodded tightly. "So, do I need to fill out some kinda form, or…?"

"We'll be in touch." Natasha re-iterated. "Besides, the past few months speak for themselves."

"Right. Okay." Scott glanced around the deserted warehouse. "Do I at least get a ride home?"

The barest hint of a smile crossed Natasha's lips. "Go get in the car, Mr. Lang. Or should I say, _Ant_ - _Man_."

* * *

 **So, that's it. Sorry it's not longer. Next time around involves more shenanigans at Avengers HQ, more of Scott fanboying over Cap (and probably everyone else). And Christy gets a playdate with Cassie. ;)**

 **Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**

 **Thanks again for sticking with me.**


	20. He Said Yes! Part Two

**Hello, everyone! I'm finally back! The year is winding down and once my finals are over, I should be able to post more often. I expect to have a lot to write on, once CIVIL WAR comes out. (I can't believe that's in a week!)**

 **On another note, today marks the anniversary of the day I posted the first chapter of "We Can Be Found," the one that started it all! It has been a crazy ride since, but I have enjoyed every minute of it. I feel like I have grown as a writer and become more confident in my own abilities-and above all, I've enjoyed giving people good stories to read. Here's to the next year, and whatever comes with it! Hopefully I can begin to foray back into my own original work this summer.  
**

 **Enjoy the "part two" to last chapter, in which Scott fanboys, Christy makes a new friend, and we learn what REALLY qualifies you to be in the Avengers.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty: "He Said 'Yes!'" Part Two

"Well…you could always just bring her along." Sam said, his voice slightly distorted over the Skype connection.

Scott stared at him goggle-eyed. "You mean bring her _across the country_? By myself? You did hear me when I explained everything, right?"

Sam nodded. "I heard you. But your ex can't really complain about safety—Cassie would be at the most guarded place in America outside the White House and Stark's Tower."

Scott just shook his head.

Hank (or Hope, he wasn't sure who greenlit it, actually) had awarded him a small salary for his work as Ant-Man. If he understood Sam correctly, he'd be getting more money if he officially joined the Avengers.

All this was enough for Maggie and him to re-negotiate visitation rights.

And, after he'd put a down-payment on a tiny apartment, she'd even agreed to the idea of letting Cassie spend some weekends with him.

Unfortunately, the first weekend happened to fall on the exact same date as his "Avengers interview".

Maggie might be cool with Cassie staying with him in the same city. But there was no way…

"Man, at least ask her!" Sam cried. "You're gonna be on a private plane, anyway."

"I am?"

"Yes!" Sam grinned. "You got friends in high places now, Lang."

Scott took a deep breath. "Alright. I'll ask."

"Good. Get back to me if it really doesn't work out." Sam had a funny look on his face. "Far be it from me to keep a man away from his daughter."

Scott frowned a bit at the odd statement. Did Sam…?

Nah, it was impossible. He'd checked. None of the Avengers had family.

Right?

* * *

By some miracle out of the highest heaven, Maggie and Paxton agreed to let him bring Cassie to New York.

The seven year old was over the moon with excitement. She carried a rainbow backpack full of Avengers action figures, and an autograph book.

"Are we gonna meet Captain America, Daddy?"

Scott grinned. "Yeah we are!" _I hope he likes me_ … _I read all his comics as a kid and now I finally get to meet him!_

"And Black Widow and Hawkeye and Iron Man and Hulk and Thor and, and…" she frowned. "Who else?"

"Falcon." Scott supplied.

"Oh, yeah. Didn't you beat him up?"

Scott coughed uncomfortably. "Yeah, uh, maybe best you _don't_ mention that, okay, Peanut?"

"Okay!" Cassie said blithely. "What I am I gonna do when you have your meeting?"

Scott looked even more uncomfortable. "Uh…I really don't know. Maybe just be real quiet and play with your toys…?"

Truth be told, he had no idea what would be expected from his daughter. But Sam wouldn't have told him he could bring her if it wasn't okay, right?

Right?

He still couldn't get the man's odd sentence out of his head.

 _"_ _Far be it for me to keep a man away from his daughter…"_

Cassie was looking speculative. "Can I still get autographs?"

Scott nodded, and pulled her in for a hug. "Yeah, Peanut, you can still get autographs."

* * *

"So when's this guy coming?"

Steve was his bathroom, in middle of combing his hair back, when he heard Christy pipe up behind him. He had vacillated between wearing normal clothes or the suit, before finally settling on the suit. It was a formal interview, after all.

And, contrary to popular opinion, Steve Rogers did have a bit of a mischievous streak. It would be funny to see the man's reaction to _Captain America_ in the flesh, considering what Sam and Natasha had told him.

"Soon." he promised, fixing the finicky part with water.

Christy sighed. "'Soon' could mean five minutes, five days, or five years." she pointed out.

"Less than half an hour." Steve clarified. He glanced at his daughter's slightly devious face. "Lemme guess, you're overly excited that you get to spring your surprise existence on him."

Christy grinned. "Yup! And for a play date. Do you think Cassie will like me?"

Steve swooped his not-so-little girl up on his shoulder. "Who could hate you?"

"Red Skull? Zola? Pierce? Hitler?"

"Exactly." Steve grinned. "You can tell a lot about a man—or woman—by their enemies. I think you and Cassie will get on just fine."

"Okay. It's too bad Lila and Cooper aren't here. Then we could play real hide-n-seek. It's boring with just two people."

"Rope the twins into it. And maybe Vizh." Steve said, as they exited their room and into the Common Area. The three people he'd mentioned happened to be sitting in there

"What do you want from me, and how is a rope involved?" Pietro asked, from his position on the couch. He was enjoying the brief reprieve from training.

"I believe she is using the phrase to mean 'coerce into doing'." Vision added mildly. "It's slang." Over the past couple of months, the android had fully embraced his status as "the living encyclopedia".

Pietro rolled his eyes. "I know it's slang! I hate American slang!"

"It's not so bad." Wanda countered. "Some of it is very creative."

Pietro hmphed, clearly not convinced.

Christy, by this time back on the floor, said, "I was asking if you wanna play hide-n-seek later."

Pietro looked mildly less annoyed, and gave a sarcastic grin. "You were asking? I didn't hear."

Christy sighed in impatience. "I _was about to_ ask. Happy?"

" _Ej_ , truth is very important." Pietro said, mock-solemnly. "Nobody likes liars."

Christy gave an outraged exhale and turned to Wanda. "Wanda! Your brother called me a liar!"

"Pietro, try and act your age." Wanda said, looking up from her tablet.

"I act my age! I act my age ex-ext-excl…" Pietro groaned, frustrated. "What's the word?"

"Well 'exclusively' would be a lie, so I think the word you're looking for is 'extensively'." Steve offered. "It means 'mostly'."

"Yes, ex-ten-sive-ly." Pietro grinned. "Most times."

Wanda looked like she was about to counter that statement, when Bucky came striding into the room.

"Plane's comin'." He said to Steve. "Right on schedule." He grinned. "I see you got all spiffed up."

Steve shrugged, and gestured at Bucky's own uniform. He had on the black leather he wore for most missions, as well as his old Commando jacket that Steve had "borrowed" back from the Smithsonian.

"Nothin' like a good first impression."

Bucky's grin got wider. "And it'll scare the…crap outta him." He said, bowdlerizing at the last second. He would use occasional profanity, more than Steve on average, but never around Christy. (At least not on purpose.)

"Forgive me if I don't quite understand…" Vision said. "But why do you insist on antagonizing a potential ally?"

Steve frowned. "It's not really antagonizing. We aren't gonna hurt him. But according to Sam, he's still a bit star-struck over this whole thing: becoming a hero, getting mixed-up with us…"

"It's a joke." Wanda offered. She looked at Bucky. "Does he even know about you?"

Bucky shook his head. "Most likely not. So I'm gonna have fun. I can see it now: _"But you're supposed to be dead!"_ "

Sam's voice suddenly came over the base's intercom. "The ant has landed, repeat, the ant has landed!"

Steve glanced around at the motley crew that was half his team. "Alright. Let's go meet the ant."

Christy giggled.

* * *

Scott had already determined that he was bound to make a huge fool of himself. But he desperately hoped he could reign himself in, for Cassie's sake.

The first person to meet him as he stepped of the plane was Sam, thankfully.

"Looks like you made it just fine." the man said, as he and Scott shook hands. "And who's this pretty lady?"

Cassie looked a little shy. She clutched Bugsy, her stuffed rabbit (the 'ugly' one Scott had gotten her), to her chest and muttered. "I'm Cassie. Are you Falcon?"

Sam grinned. "The one and only! But you can call me Mr. Sam, alright?"

"Okay. Did Daddy really beat you up?"

Scott groaned.

"Yeah, he did." Sam said. "He surprised me with a sneak attack."

"And then you _kidnapped_ me…" Scott muttered.

"Hey, any added creepiness was Natasha's fault, not mine! But c'mon, it's high time you met everyone else, and everyone else met you. And Cassie."

The three of them strode into the base and down several hallways until they reached a large conference room with a long, oval table and plush wheelie-chairs.

But it was the people sitting in the chairs that were the most interesting.

Scott dimly processed each one. Captain America at the head of the table, of course. Then Black Widow, a brown-haired man he didn't know, Hawkeye, the purple Android-man that had sent the news into a frenzy, a blond man and a brunette girl who looked like siblings…

And an even tinier girl, who sat to the Captain's right.

Cassie locked eyes with the girl. The girl stood up and meandered over. "You can have my seat, Sam." She looked at Scott and Cassie. "Hi, I'm Christy."

"Are you an Avenger, too?" Cassie asked, almost in awe.

Christy grinned. "Nah, my dad says it'd have to be the Apocalypse before I became an Avenger. That means no, I can't be one." Her smirk got bigger. "But my dad _is_ Captain America."

Cassie shrieked for joy. Scott shrieked in complete and utter shock.

Everyone at the conference table broke out in laughter.

Christy and Cassie immediately retired to a corner to talk things over. Scott stumbled closer to the table, as Sam had already sat down.

"Okay…okay…can somebody please explain to me how Captain America has a kid?"

Hawkeye smirked. "Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…"

The Captain cut him off. "Or, when a man out of time meets a tiny seven year old in foster care and realizes he doesn't want to live life alone, he adopts a child." He stood up and walked over to Scott. "It's a pleasure to meet the Ant-Man, Mr. Lang."

Scott returned the handshake in a dizzy fugue state. "Oh, uh, the, uh, honor's all mine Captain. Thanks for thanking of me—uh, _thinking_ of me, y'know…Oh, God, you were my biggest hero growing up!"

Loud snickering could be heard from several people, loudest of all from the brown-haired man.

Steve took a deep breath and tried to wipe the amused grin off his face. "You _can_ call me Steve, y'know."

"I-I can? I mean, of course I can! I'm an Avenger now and I…this is so cool!"

Sam called out, "Scott, sit down before you fall over or float away! You've got a few more introductions to get through!"

Scott groped his way into a chair as Steve took back his seat. He swallowed. "Okay, anymore bombshells for me?"

He got through introductions to Hawkeye ("just Clint, thanks"), Vision ("a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lang"), Scarlet Witch ("Wanda, and I promise not to mess with your head"), and Quicksilver ("Pietro; I'm the fastest man alive!") in a relatively sane manner. It helped that he had been able to get a bit of information on all of them.

But the last man…

"And this…this is Bucky Barnes."

"Codename: Winter Soldier." the man echoed.

Scott could feel his mind going through everything he'd read and researched.

"Aren't you supposed to be, y'know…dead?" he said hesitantly.

Bucky smirked. "Called it." he said to Steve.

"You were a hero."

Everyone turned to where Cassie sat with Christy. The seven year old's solemn brown eyes looked at Bucky almost knowingly. "You fought the Nazis. But you died."

"Where did you learn that?" Scott asked quietly.

"TV." Cassie said dismissively. "So how'd you come back?"

Bucky swallowed. "Well, I never really…died. I just fell so far, they thought I died. And then the…bad guys found me. They hurt me so much, I thought good was bad. I didn't remember anything." He shot a glance at Steve. "And then my friend found me, and I came back. I remembered him, remembered who I was supposed to be."

Cassie nodded. "Daddy mixed up good and bad, too. That's why he was in jail. But then he remembered that he was supposed to be good, so he became a hero."

"You were in _jail_?" Pietro asked, giving Scott an incredulous look.

Scott leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, I was. That's…kinda a long story, though."

"Dad, can I show Cassie my treehouse?" Christy asked.

"Sure, baby, go ahead…" Steve looked at Scott. "Is that okay?"

"What?! Uh, yeah, yeah…be safe, 'kay, Peanut?"

"'Kay Daddy!" the two girls ran happily out of the room.

"So, Mr. Lang," Steve leaned forward, his team-leader face in place. "What qualifies you to be a member of the Avengers?"

Scott felt his stomach drop. "I…I have a suit…that shrinks…?"

"A lot of people have powers." Natasha cut in. "Doesn't mean we let them in."

Scott swallowed, wondering what it was these people wanted from him. Finally, he just decided to lay his cards on the table.

"Look, four months ago, I got outta prison. All I wanted was to get a job, so I could see my daughter again. I'm…I'm nobody, alright? Just a no-good, ex-con from San Fran who wants to give his daughter a reason not to be ashamed of him." He took a deep breath. "So, to answer, I dunno know that qualifies or un-qualifies me. But it's the truth. Honestly, I think I'm probably the last person you should pick. But if you want me, you can have me."

"Scott."

Scott attempted to control himself in light of the fact that Captain-freaking-America just called him by name.

"Once upon a very long time ago, someone asked me what made me so special. I told 'im…nothin'. I'm just a kid from Brooklyn that got lucky. _Everyone_ on this team is just someone that got lucky. In light of that, I can't think of anyone I'd rather say this to." He stretched out his hand across the table.

"Welcome to the Avengers, Scott Lang."

* * *

"So, you live here?" Cassie asked, looking out the window in Christy's tree house. It was built in a tall tree that had a good view of both the base and the surrounding forest.

Christy nodded. "Yeah. I like it. It's kinda in the middle of nowhere, but it's got a really big backyard. And we go into the city a lot." She gestured at Cassie's rabbit. "What's his name?"

"Bugsy. Daddy got him for me for my birthday."

"Oh. I have a Captain Ameribear named Stevie. He's my favorite. I still sleep with him, even though I'm big, because Sam says it really doesn't matter. And Sam would know, he's a doctor."

Cassie's face scrunched up. "Who's Sam again?"

"Falcon. He's the best! See, it's a little confusing, because everybody has a superhero name, a normal name, and some kinda nickname. Like my dad. His superhero name is Captain America, but his normal name is Steve Rogers. And people call him nicknames like Cap or Capsicle…well, only Uncle Tony calls him that and Dad hates it. Or Stevie. But only Uncle Bucky calls him that."

Cassie frowned. "That's a lot of names to remember…"

"Yeah…but you get used to it."

"Is Captain America your real Daddy?"

"Yes." Christy said, firmly. She hated that question. Of course Steve was her 'real' dad, he wasn't fake! "But he's not my first dad. My first dad died when I was little. And then my mom died too. So I got adopted."

"Oh." Cassie nodded. "My mom and dad love me, but they realized that they didn't like each other as much. So they got divorced, and now mommy's gonna marry Paxton. He's nice and I like him, but sometimes I wish mom and dad could like each other as much as they like me."

"Sometimes I wish my mom didn't die." Christy whispered.

"You can borrow my mom if you want." Cassie offered.

Christy smiled, a little sad. "Thanks, but you can't really borrow a mom."

The two of them sat quietly for a minute. Fortunately, though, they were both up-tempered girls who couldn't stay melancholy for long.

"Do you want to play hide-n-seek?" Christy finally asked.

Cassie nodded happily. "Yeah!"

"Okay, great! Let's see if we can get Pietro and Wanda to play, and maybe Vision. Pietro's always really hard to find, because…"

* * *

Scott still couldn't quite believe what he'd gotten himself into.

Still, the more he stayed around the Avenger's Base, the more relaxed he felt himself becoming. Sure, these guys (and women!) were the stuff of legends, but always behind legends, there were people.

People who ate, drank, laughed, ached, and lived—just like everyone was doing right now.

And as he watched _Quicksilver_ give Cassie a light-speed piggy-back ride, while Christy clamored for the next turn, he couldn't help but feel a sense of coming home, of belonging.

"They grow on ya, huh?"

Scott jumped. There behind him was Steve Rogers.

"Yeah…" he said. "Well…you guys may not be the weirdest group I've worked with. But you'll do."

Steve laughed. "I mean it, y'know." he said seriously. "We're none of us anything special, on our own. Sometimes together, we're not even anything special. But then, just when the world needs us…we somehow manage to scrape ourselves together to help everybody out."

Scott nodded. "I…I guess that's what it's about, anyway." he muttered.

"You gonna head back before Monday?" Steve inquired.

"Yeah, I've only got Cassie for the weekend…I meant to ask. Do you guys want me here full-time, or...?"

Steve shook his head. "If you can train in San Fransisco, no need to stay here, unless you wanna. If we need you, you'll know." He smiled. "Also, expect my daughter to be calling yours."

"Yeah, I kinda called that one." Scott replied. He moved his head back and forth in a gesture of incredulity. "I still can't believe…"

"With us, you expect the unexpected and believe the unbelievable" Steve said wryly. "Anything's possible."

Scott nodded once more, mulling over the words. They were words he wouldn't have believed two months ago.

Now, though…

Anything could happen.

* * *

 **Yup, anything can happen. Including...CIVIL WAR! AHHHHHH! To tell the truth, I'm both excited and terrified to view thisi movie, because I will probably suffer from a massive dose of FEELS and then have to tweak everything around to fit my ChristyVerse.  
**

 **Before said movie comes out, you can expect one last chapter, as sort of a commemorations of, like I said, it being one year since I first posted WCBF. If anyone wants Steve and Christy cuteness involving Broadway plays and diners, tune in sometime before Thursday night. (When I go to the premiere for CW and cry my heart out.)**

 **In the meantime, as always: Reviews are wonderful things...**


	21. Because I Knew You

**Hello to all, here's one last little chappie before I go to the Civil War premiere soon and cry my eyes out and/or get kicked out of the theater for being too loud (yes, I'm one of THOSE people ;) ) But, since it's been a year since the first posting of We Can Be Found, I wanted to post something cute and flashback-y, before I write what will likely be a lot of angst, fix-its, explanations and "damage control". Enjoy the cuteness.**

 **UPDATE: CIVIL WAR IS A VIBRANIUM PUNCH TO THE HEART! And I am gonna be scrambling to try and make a lot of the movie events fit in the ChristyVerse. But I can do it. I'm gonna go AU a bit, but since my relationship with cannon basically resembles "pick what I like and covertly ignore the rest," that shouldn't surprise or alarm anyone. If anyone has any Post-Civil War ideas, PM me.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Because I Knew You

Days at Avenger's HQ were generally filled with training and lessons of various sorts, especially for the three youngest inhabitants of the base. Christy being home schooled, which involved her more visibly doing schoolwork, had reminded Wanda and Pietro that their own schooling had been severely lacking. So now, the both of them were taking online classes, mostly to improve their English writing skills (which were very, very poor. Thankfully, they had a base-full of proofreaders.)

Nights were bonding time, similar to how things had been at the Tower. The biggest difference now was that there were no floors, so everyone was living in a lot closer proximity. The Common Area, surrounded by doors to most everyone's rooms and also the communal kitchen, was the new default hangout spot. It was set up like a traditional living room with four large couches arranged in a kind of semi-circle (or a square on occasion), a TV mounted on the wall, equipped with every movie imaginable, and a cabinet containing any extra, along with board games and a few video games (Clint, Pietro, and sometimes Steve and Bucky were fond of them).

One night in early November, Steve glanced at Christy, who sat next to him on the couch, reading a book.

"We have some plans to make." He murmured softly, just loud enough so she wouldn't be startled.

Christy looked up and frowned, until her face morphed into a smile. "Oh, yeah…my Gotcha Day's in a week!"

Wanda, sitting across from them, looked confused. "What is "gotcha"?"

"'Got you'." Steve explained, enunciating the words carefully. "As in, 'I got you'. It's the anniversary of Christy's adoption day."

"It's a Gotcha Day, 'cause I got Dad and Dad got me." Christy proclaimed.

Clint smirked. "I remember that day. You were a flaming wreck, Steve."

"I wasn't that bad!" Steve proclaimed.

"Oh, it wasn't bad." Natasha said. "Just highly amusing." She grinned at Bucky, Sam, Vision, Rhodey, and the twins—everyone who hadn't been around at the time. "Picture, if you will, a grown man consistently checking his phone for calls from the Agency like a hyperactive teenager, and grinning like a giant idiot when said call finally came."

"Not to mention researching everything like mad." Clint chimed in. "Or worrying out loud."

"Worrying about _what_?" Christy asked.

Bucky snorted. "Punk was probably scared he'd do somethin' wrong and screw ya up for life, kid."

Steve nodded in agreement. "I was nervous. Very nervous."

"But you're the best Dad ever!"

Steve grinned. "So glad I have at least one vote of confidence."

"Try _over ten_." Sam said sarcastically. "Everyone and their brother can see you're a good dad."

"We did have some close calls, though." Clint added. "Remember that time when Loki was in the Tower?"

"You two weren't even around for that!" Steve protested. "You were gone on a SHIELD mission! That one was me, Thor, and _Loki_ , of all people!"

"What happened?" Rhodey asked.

"We were supposed to have a check-in from my social worker, Mrs. Olivia." Christy explained. "But she got sick and couldn't do it, so they sent another lady instead, and she was _awful_! My adoption wasn't completely finished, so she kept referring to Dad as my legal guardian and not my dad, and she found something wrong with everything in the Tower. I was scared she was gonna take me away."

Steve sighed, and pulled Christy in closer. That had been a seriously awful day.

"But I think she thought Uncle Loki was cute, so she got distracted enough to leave us alone."

"That, and there wasn't anything she could really fault me on." Steve added.

"I wouldn't think so." Bucky said, incensed at the idea that anyone would think Steve an unfit guardian.

"So when is this auspicious day?" Vision asked.

"November 8." Steve replied.

"November 8, 2012; the day I got found." Christy mumbled softly.

"Lucky for you." Pietro tossed back. He was completely sincere, but a little sad. Wanda leaned over against him.

Bucky frowned; he was sitting close and had caught the gesture. "Who's even legally responsible for you two?" he asked.

"That would be me." Clint replied, a tiny smirk on his face. "I signed next-of-kin papers and the Barton family swelled from five to seven. And Tony made sure they got Green Cards."

Bucky nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Nobody…nobody should feel like they got no place to go. And if nobody'd offered, well…" he shrugged.

Steve couldn't resist a smile. Bucky had a bit of a survivors bond with the twins, especially Wanda. All three of them had escaped out of HYDRA's control, and all three had memories that were less than pleasant to deal with. It was the same with Natasha, except that Bucky had a "big-brother" streak a mile wide.

"You can be uncle." Pietro said. "But which one?"

"Which one what?" Steve asked.

"Two words for uncle in Sokovian." Wanda supplied.

Natasha nodded. "One for mother's brother and one for father's brother."

The twins appeared to be having a silent mental debate. Finally, Pietro spoke aloud. " _Adžo_. He's like _otac_ —always joking."

"Like you." Wanda added affectionately.

"Like your dad?" Bucky asked carefully. The twins never mentioned their parents at all, if they could help it.

"Yes…" Wanda said slowly. "He was serious sometimes. But he was happy. I remember that." She turned to Steve. "You, you are _ujak_. Mother's brother. Our mother was always worried we'd do something crazy and get ourselves killed. Mostly Pietro."

Steve grinned. "What about Sam?"

" _Ujak_." Christy chimed in. "Right?"

Pietro nodded, grinning slyly.

"I take no offense at that, I am glad to be the sane one!" Sam replied.

"English is way easier." Christy said. "But a lot less fun!"

Steve ruffled her hair. "Alright, but that still doesn't solve what I wanted to ask you about in the first place. What do you wanna do for your Gotcha Day?"

Christy looked speculative. "Can…can we go see a play? Like a fancy one? On Broadway?"

"Sure. Got any one in mind?"

"Uh… _Wicked_? I think it's like _The Wizard of Oz_ , but better or different, or something."

Steve smiled. "I'll order tickets. Anything else?"

"Just you and me?" Christy looked a little guilty. They'd been sharing their lives so much, it felt weird but also nice to do something just her and her dad.

"Just you and me." Steve assured.

Christy grinned. "Then I'm good."

* * *

November 8 was a Sunday that year, and Steve and Christy set out for the city with one thing to do before the play that night.

For the first time in quite a while, they walked through the grassy, peaceful cemetery. The trees were bare, but the sun was out, so the atmosphere wasn't completely depressing.

"You want a few minutes by yourself?" Steve asked. Christy nodded.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." She sat down in front of one tiny headstone, and reached out to gently touch it. Steve backed up several paces and sat under a tree.

"Hi Mom." Christy said slowly. "I guess I've been gone awhile. It's my adoption anniversary, so I thought I'd visit."

She stroked the smooth granite again.

"They say it's supposed to get easier. I dunno who _they_ are, but they're wrong. I still miss you. I wish…I wish you were here to say 'oh, my little girl's all grown up' and all that stuff mom's are supposed to say."

She took a deep breath.

"There's more of us now. The team just keeps getting bigger and bigger. They would have liked you. You…would have liked them. I miss you. You told me to be brave and look for the best in others. I try. Sometimes I hold grudges against dead people. But…I think even you would have had a hard time loving Zola."

Another breath.

"I still sing. I'm learning guitar now. Do you want a song? You used to sing this one to me…

 _Goodnight, my angel_

 _Now it's time to dream_

 _And dream how wonderful your life will be_

 _Someday your child may cry_

 _And if you sing this lullaby_

 _Then in your heart_

 _There will always be a part of me_ …"

She reached out, one last time.

"Bye Mom. Love you…till the end of the line and back."

* * *

The play was in the Gershwin Theater, a tall building with an imposing lobby. The actual theater area was even more interesting.

"Look, Dad, I think that's a dragon!" Christy cried, tugging on Steve's suit sleeve.

"I think so…" Steve echoed. "C'mon, baby, our seats are over there."

They sat down and started to peruse through the show bulletin.

"So…this is all about how the Wicked Witch of the West _isn't_ evil?" Steve asked skeptically.

Christy shrugged. "Everybody's got a backstory. I learned that living with…" she glanced around and lowered her voice, "superheroes."

"I suppose…"

The play began, with the opening song, "No One Mourns the Wicked." Just like in the original movie, everyone was celebrating the downfall of the Wicked Witch. But then, Glinda admitted that she had once been _friends_ with the vile woman! And thus began the backstory…

"I suppose it would be pretty rough to grow up with green skin." Steve muttered sympathetically, thinking of his own childhood. And it didn't look like Elphaba (apparently the Witch's real name) had anyone like Bucky to help her out.

Christy shook her head and scowled. "They're mean." she whispered. "And her dad doesn't like her. I wish I could give her a hug."

The play continued on, showing the personality clash between Elphaba and Glinda, Elphaba's talent for sorcery, the discrimination against talking animals in Oz, and the arrival of a handsome playboy prince named Fiyero.

"Okay, none of this was in the movie." Steve said quietly.

"Not in the book neither." Christy said back. "But I like it. I like Elphaba."

The song "Defying Gravity" was definitely Christy's new favorite. She sung along happily under her breath:

 _"_ _As someone told me lately_

 _Everyone deserves the chance to fly_

 _And if I'm flying solo_

 _At least I'm flying free_

 _To those who ground me_

 _Take a message back from me!_

 _Tell them how I am defying gravity_

 _I'm flying high, defying gravity_

 _And soon I'll match them in renown_

 _And nobody in all of Oz_

 _No Wizard that there is or was_

 _Is ever gonna bring me down!"_

She was halfway out of her seat by the last two lines. Steve had to grab her arm to keep her sitting still.

 _Well, I know what we're gonna be hearing around the base the next few days…_

But after that triumphant song, nothing seemed to work out well for Elphaba. Everyone was convinced she was "wicked" for daring to oppose the Wizard, who was responsible for the discrimination against the talking animals of Oz.

By the end of the play, Elphaba had managed to escape, and wasn't actually melted like in the movie or book. It was a satisfying, but bittersweet ending.

The two exited out of the theater after the final curtain calls and applause. It was late, but not too late.

"I think there's a diner up this way." Steve said, as Christy twirled around still humming bits of "Defying Gravity". "You want a late dinner? Or snack?"

"Sure! We're gonna eat late like grown-ups!" Christy enthused.

Steve laughed. "Alright, alright; now let's go. It's freezin' out here!"

The diner was a semi-famous one near 50th St. and 7th Avenue known as "Ellen's Stardust Diner". The 50's décor was near enough to familiar for Steve, and he had been in on intermittent times since his un-freezing.

Christy liked it on sight, and the two of them sat down in a booth. Thankfully, it wasn't too crowded at this late hour.

"You like the show, baby?" he asked.

Christy nodded. "I liked it. I didn't know if I would, but I did. It's…it's good for remembering you can't just assume people are bad, even if it looks like it. And everybody has a story."

Steve let out a sigh. Christy was right, and the play was right. But still…

"Sometimes people _are_ bad." he said quietly. "Some people just wanna watch the whole world go up in smoke."

"Ultron." Christy said heatedly. "But…that was his choice. Sometimes people have sad stories. And sometimes bad things happen. But you don't have to choose to be bad. You can choose good. Like the twins. Like Uncle Bucky. And that's what makes people really bad. Not their story, but what they do with it."

Steve smiled. "Alright little philosopher, pick something to eat."

As Christy scanned the menu, Steve's mind drifted off to _his_ favorite part of the play—the final duet between Elphaba and Glinda.

 _"_ _Who can say if I've been_

 _Changed for the better, but_

 _Because I knew you…_

 _I have been changed for good…"_

Four years ago, he'd been lonely; adrift in a world that he hadn't quite understood and cut off form anyone who could really understand him. Even surrounded by eventual team mates, there'd been a wall.

But then…

Then he'd met a girl who faced everything life had thrown at her with grace and lots of hugs. Someone who wasn't afraid to look past the mask of Captain America and, here was the crazy part, love the flawed, broken Steve Rogers just as much.

"'Whichever way our stories end…'" he whispered. "I know you have re-written mine…"

 _By being my daughter, my baby girl. By being yourself._

He reached out on impulse and grabbed her hand across the table.

"I love you, Christy."

Christy looked part surprised, part pleased. "Love you, Dad. Thanks…" she looked down, shy. "Thanks for picking me."

"I'd do it a thousand times over." Steve vowed.

 _I can't say if I've been changed for the better. I really don't know sometimes. But baby girl, because I chose you…_

 _I have been changed for good._

* * *

 **Aww! Family love is the best! And now...Civil War!**

 **Serbian, which I'm using for "Sokovian" has, as stated, two words for Uncle, and Aunt as well. "Adžo" means "father's brother", "Ujak" means "mother's brother" and "Otac" means "dad".  
**

 **The song Christy sings for her mom is a verse from "Goodnight My Angel" by Billy Joel. I found it on accident and fell in love with it. The songs quoted from Wicked are part of "Defying Gravity" and "For Good".**

 **That's all for now. I'll post again soon. As always...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	22. Fun With Languages

**Hello, all, I'm back for one last go-round on this story! Civil War gave me quite a lot of ideas for this 'Verse, so it's full steam ahead from here!**

 **This one-shot came about because a) I like languages, b) I'm studying to become an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher, and c) I just finished a Linguistics course. I also speak Spanish decently and am in the process of learning a little German and Russian. And, let's face it, guys: English is a hard language to learn non-natively!**

 **This'll be the last one-shot for this story. I should be posting my next story sometime this weekend or coming week, entitled "Tales from the River of Truth". So, if you haven't followed me, now might be a good time to do so!**

* * *

Twenty-Two: Fun With Languages

"I hate Russian." Christy muttered venomously at her StarkPad.

Natasha arched her eyebrow delicately. "You can stop any time you want. It's not like this is a part of your regular schoolwork."

"No. I'll get it." Christy said, sighing a little. "I'll get it." she said again, raw stubbornness creeping into her tone.

Training was over for the day, which meant that everyone was gathered around in the Common Area. "Everyone" currently meant Steve, Bucky, Sam, Rhodey, Vision, Natasha, and Christy. The twins were in Wanda's room, theoretically working on an English writing assignment for the online course they were taking.

In reality, who knew what they were doing.

Christy had been on-and-off learning basic Russian for about two years now, but was nowhere near fluent. The twins attempting to speak and write better English had reignited her desire to "learn every language and talk to everybody".

So long as she was semi-serious about it, Natasha had agreed to help her out. They had found a website called Duolingo that offered basic language-learning courses that were interactive and fun. So far, Christy had been enjoying it.

(Natasha was waiting for the inevitable blow-up that would occur when they got to plurals…)

Bucky elbowed Steve in the ribs. "Who needs blood? Kid's completely a Rogers. She's got your stubbornness and everything."

Steve grinned. "So says everyone. Make sure not to work her too hard, Natasha…" he added, strains of "concerned dad" poking through his voice.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "She's been working ten minutes, Rogers. She'll be fine for another ten or so."

"P-a-d…i-o?" Christy sounded out slowly. Natasha (and Bucky) frowned.

"I think you mean r-a-d-i-o." Natasha said, after leaning over the tablet.

Christy plunked the device down on the table in a fit of pique. "Why does 'r' look like 'p'? And 'p' looks like a door frame!"

"Because it's a completely different alphabet." Natasha said patiently.

"Well why can't it use the same alphabet we do? Spanish does!"

"Russian isn't Spanish, Christy."

"You can say that again." Sam muttered.

Natasha shot a glare in Sam's direction. "Not helping, Wilson."

Sam threw up his hands. "Sorry!"

It was generally best to avoid annoying the person who could order you to run laps during training.

"Why does a backwards capital R mean 'ya'?" Christy asked a short while later.

"I thought we agreed it was because Russian has a different alphabet system." Vision said. "You needn't keep belaboring the point."

Christy stuck her tongue out in Vision's general direction.

"Nah, let her keep at it." Natasha replied. "The more she complains, the more she'll remember. If she keeps saying 'p looks like r,' she'll remember p looks like r."

"That's…actually really smart." Steve said.

Natasha smirked. "I do have my moments—they're the reason I'm still alive." She turned to Christy. "Alright, give me two sentences with the words you just learned."

Christy sighed. "In Russian?"

"Yes, in Russian."

"Okay…" Christy scanned the room. "Vision _tam_. _Papa—soldat_."

Natasha glanced at the StarkPad screen. "They didn't teach you that last word."

"No, but I knew it already!" Christy protested, crossing her arms.

"Alright, fair point." Natasha capitulated.

"What exactly did you say about me?" Vision inquired mildly.

"Oh, I just said you're over there."

Rhodey looked skeptical. "You said that? All I heard was Vision's name and ' _tam_ '?"

"She literally said 'Vision there', but that's how it works in Russian." Natasha explained. "No pesky helping verbs required."

"So...lemme guess, she literally said 'Dad—soldier' and meant that Steve is a soldier, yes?" Sam asked.

Natasha smirked. "Yup. Works like a charm. Gets rid of so many unnecessary words."

At that moment, the crash of a door opening and slamming shut sounded through the base, along with what sounded like a loud, angry rant in Sokovian.

Pietro stalked into the Common Area like a cat with water poured on it. Wanda came behind him, her face a mix of annoyance and slight exhaustion.

With wild, swinging movements, Pietro spun around to face Steve, glaring all the while.

Steve arched an eyebrow and said mildly, "Can I help you?"

With a low, feral-sounding growl, Pietro asked, "Why. Is. English. So. Hard?!"

Wanda sighed and collapsed on the couch next to Sam. She was evidently suffering from the same problem.

Sam leaned over. "Need some proof-reading help?"

Wanda nodded. "My last essay had bad marks. But not bad like the first."

Sam gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Hey, don't worry. You're getting better. And I can't speak a lick of Sokovian, let alone write it. Give it here."

Meanwhile, everyone else was dealing with Pietro.

"How come you're mad at Steve?" Rhodey asked. "It's not like he invented English."

"He is _Captain America_ , yes?" Pietro muttered.

Steve held up his hands in gesture of protest. "My mother grew up speaking Gaelic, alright? Don't yell at me. I'm sorry you're having issues, kid, but like Rhodey said, I didn't invent English."

Pietro sunk down beside Steve. "Sorry. Is not your fault. Only…" he sighed. "I am not _stupid_!"

"Nobody said you were stupid." Bucky replied. Noticing a document in the younger man's hand, he asked, "What's the paper?"

Pietro groaned. "Last essay I write."

"Wrote." Christy supplied. Pietro gave a half-hearted glare (he had a hard time being mad at Christy).

"Fine. _Wrote_. It was bad."

"Let me see it." Steve said quietly. Pietro handed the paper over and suddenly seemed entranced by the opposite wall.

The paper appeared to have been a fairly simple "biography" assignment. Steve caught one thing right away.

"You _have_ twenty-one years?" he queried gently.

"I know, I know!" Pietro said in exasperation. "Is 'I am twenty-one'. But that is stupid! I have clothes, I have hair, I have years! Is ridiculous!"

"They do that in Spanish, too." Christy chimed in helpfully. " _Tengo once años_."

"See!" Pietro cried. "What she say! _Tengo once…años_."

Christy giggled. "Wrong number. You would be… _veintiuno_. Twenty-one."

" _Dvadeset jedan_." Pietro whispered, almost defiantly.

Steve quickly scanned through the paper, and then shot Sam, who was reading Wanda's, a look.

"It's mostly spelling." he said.

Sam nodded. "And they get nothing but sympathy from me on that! English spelling is _evil_!" He tapped the paper in his hands, and then Wanda's arm. "You kept putting 'c' for 's'. And 'p' for 'r'."

Wanda groaned. "I was tired. Very tired."

"'S' looks like s-s- _snake_." Christy said, making a slithering motion with her arms.

"But this letter" Wanda pointed to the 'c', "sounds like 's-s-s' also. Yes?"

"That's right." Sam said. "And sometimes it sounds like 'k'. And I don't have much help to give you on remembering which words use which sound."

Wanda's response was to bury her face in her hands.

"I feel like a child." she admitted. "Less than a child." she added, glancing at Christy.

Sam shoved the essay on the coffee table. "No more homework for you tonight. Your brain is fried."

Wanda smiled a little. Pietro had a deadly grudge against English idioms, but she rather liked them. "Fried like fries? Or chicken? Or…that thing, the white sugar thing."

"Marshmallow." Sam supplied, grinning. "Yeah, fried like a marshmallow that Christy roasted."

Christy had a habit of plunging marshmallows straight into a campfire and eating them, burned black and all. She had no patience for sitting around waiting for the treat to turn 'golden brown'.

Natasha turned from where she had been helping Christy finish up the last of her lesson. "Wanda. Pietro. _Vas dvoje nisu glupi. Engleski je teško._ " She smiled a little. "You're doing fine."

"It _is_ hard." Pietro admitted softly. "And...people look at us when we speak; when we go out. They act like we don't understand anything."

"Stare back." Bucky said heatedly, angry that anyone would behave like that. "It throws 'em off balance."

"Besides," Steve added, "knowing more than one language is a _good_ thing. It means you're smart. And your accent…it means you're brave. Brave enough to speak in a language you aren't always comfortable in. You take a risk every time you open your mouths. And I'm proud of you for it."

The twins both glanced down, sporting identical shy smiles.

 _"_ _Maybe this isn't so bad after all…"_ Wanda sent to Pietro.

Pietro gave a mental sigh.

 _"_ _Maybe. They make it not so bad."_

* * *

It was late, nearly eleven. Steve could hear Christy still up and talking with the twins out in the Common Area. He was about to go and tell her to think about getting to sleep, when he heard:

"You need sleep, _mače_."

That was Wanda. Steve gently slid his bedroom door open to watch the scene.

Christy sighed. "Yeah, okay." She suddenly gasped, as though she'd just had an idea. "Are there any good lullabies in Sokovian?"

"Lul-a-bies…" Wanda said slowly. "Like…good-night song?"

"Yeah, songs moms and dads sing to kids to calm them down. Dad sings to me, sometimes."

"Steve _sings_?"

That was Pietro. Steve groaned internally, sure that he would be asked for a demonstration of said talent in the near future.

"Yeah, but only for me. Or sometimes for Uncle Bucky if he had a bad nightmare."

Pietro's voice came again, this time slow and thoughtful.

"I don't know if this is a lullaby…but we sing this, when we are little."

It was Steve's turn to be shocked as Pietro sang, in a quiet, low tone:

 _"_ _Kiša pada, trava raste, gora zeleni_

 _Kiša pada, trava raste, gora zeleni_

 _U toj gori raste drvo tanko visoko_

 _U toj gori raste drvo tanko visoko_

 _Pod njim sedi moja seja, a ja pored nje._

 _Pod njim sedi moja seja, a ja pored nje…"_

Wanda let out a soft gasp. She hadn't heard that song from anyone, least of all her brother, in a very long time…

"That's so pretty!" Christy said. "What's it mean."

A smile in his voice, Pietro translated, "It says…'it is raining, grass is growing, forest turning green…in a forest, tree is growing, skinny and tall…" He glanced over at Wanda. "Under a tree, my sister sits, and I sit beside her."

"I like it." Christy whispered. "Can…can you sing it again?"

Pietro grinned. "Even better, I'll teach you. Tomorrow. But now, I'll sing again—if you go sleep! Promise?"

"Promise!" Christy cried.

"Okay _…Kiša pada, trava raste…_ "

Steve watched the scene with a fond smile.

 _Who knew languages could be so fun?_

 _Or that love could be said so many different ways…_

* * *

 **Translation/Explanation Time:  
**

 **As always in my stories, I use Serbian for "Sokovian".**

 **Duolingo is a real and really awesome site for anyone wanting to learn a language. I use it myself to keep up with my Spanish, as well as to learn German and Russian. Currently, I'm not so great at the latter two, but I hope to improve!**

 **"The blow-up that would occur when they got to plurals"- Russian plurals are...ugh. Russian in general is a weird, weird _ptitsa_ (bird). ;)  
**

 **"R looks like P...P looks like a door frame...backwards capital R means 'ya'"-Yup, all true! Look up the Cyrillic alphabet. It's NUTS.**

 **"Vision tam"- "Vision [is over] there"**

 **"Papa-soldat"- "Dad [is a] soldier"**

 **The "I _have_ x years" thing is real in a lot of languages. I guess it makes sense...**

 **English orthography (spelling/alphabet system) vs. English phonetics...I sincerely apologize to all ESL speakers. It's weird! I know! I'm sorry!**

 **"Vas dvoje nisu glupi. Engleski je teško.** **"- (Serbian) "You two are not stupid. English is hard." (According to Google Translate, because I don't know Serbian.)  
**

 **The song is a Serbian children's song called "Kiša pada" that I found online. When I read the line about "My sister is sitting under a tree and I am sitting with her," I couldn't resist!  
**

 **A big thanks to all the reviewers, favoriters, and followers of this story. Honestly, I'm blown away by all the feedback I've gotten. You guys make everything I write so worth it.  
**

 **And, in that vein...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**

 **UPDATE: "TALES FROM THE RIVER OF TRUTH" is posted, in the Captain America section of the site. It's also obviously on my profile. Check it out!**


End file.
